


Mikey and Buffy

by delphinepryde84



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Supernatural
Genre: Crossover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-14
Updated: 2014-05-02
Packaged: 2017-12-23 12:30:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 29,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/926451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/delphinepryde84/pseuds/delphinepryde84
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With Dean and Sam still saying no, Michael makes alternative plans that include a certain slayer who’s spent quality time in Heaven.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Mikey and Buffy

Disclaimer: Don’t own Supernatural or Buffy: the Vampire Slayer.

Possible Spoilers: Season 4 and 5 of SPN, all of Buffy.

Summary: With Dean and Sam still saying no, Michael makes alternative plans that include a certain slayer who’s spent quality time in Heaven.

Mikey and Buffy

By Delphine Pryde

            It was the familiar barren desert landscape that her dream was once again set in. She was really getting tired of the same place over and over.  Why couldn’t it ever be a mall, or her old house in Sunnyhell like the dreams she used to share with Faith, or even some exotic paradise instead of sand, rock, sand, rock, and even more sand. “The desert has its own sort of beauty,” a husky voice replied to her musings.

            Now this was different, instead of the mud crusted First Slayer and translator in the form of the late Tara that usually showed up during these types of dreams was a very, VERY hot guy. Sexy looks, dark blond hair, remarkable green eyes set in a freckle-kissed face, chiseled body—hello, Nurse.  She didn’t recognize him; she’d think she’d remember a guy that attractive.  “Hello, Buffy,” he said, giving her a beautiful smile that made her feel like she would melt into a pile of goo.

            “Do I know you?”

            An almost hurt expression appeared on the handsome face. “You do not remember? We used to spar quite often in Heaven and I saved you from being smited by Raphael after you called him ‘a douche bag ninja turtle.’”

            “Michael?” she said, incredulously. “You look different.” Most of her memories of Heaven were fairly blurred, but some remained fresh, such as the incident he mentioned. She had taken offense to some comment the aforementioned archangel had uttered about humans and nearly ended up extra crispy Slayer and had to be rescued by Heaven’s strongest angelic warrior.

            “That was my true form you saw. Unfortunately, on Earth only very few beings can look upon an angel’s true form without their eyes being burnt by our Grace. I was not certain if you were one of them so I decided not to risk it and taking a human vessel was not possible at this time. I decided visiting your dreams would be the best option.”

            “Thanks for not blinding me,” Buffy told him, a pinch of sadness in her voice. It hurt to think about not being able to see the beautiful, luminous winged being that was Michael. “But what’s this about a human vessel and why would you need one?”

            “A human vessel is what it sounds like: a human that is a vessel for an angel.”

            “Like possession?” Off the Hellmouth, she’d run into her fair share of non-corporeal demons that needed human hosts to effect anything. Anti-possession charms had become standard accessories for her.

            “Unlike demons, we need permission from our vessels before we can enter them and not just any human will do. Only certain humans are suited to be vessels and can contain our Grace without being destroyed. The compatibility is different between each angel and vessel; generally those of one bloodline will match up with a single angel.” He gestured to his form. “This is what my true vessel, Dean Winchester looks like. Unfortunately, he keeps saying ‘no’ to me. The only comfort is that at least his brother is still refusing Lucifer—for now.”

           “Whoa—whoa, time out.” Her hands came together to form a ‘T’ sign. “I thought Lucy was sealed up until the whole Revelations Apocalypse.” Michael gave her a pointed look. “You’ve got to be freaking kidding me; we just finished cleaning up after the First Evil and now this? Weren’t there suppose to be seals that needed to be broken first and such, why weren’t they protected?” She remembered reading about the long complicated process to freeing the Devil when researching possible Apocolypses—apocolypsi, whatever,  to keep an eye out for.

            He gave a weary sigh. “A lot has happened since you were torn from Heaven.” Her body gave a great flinch as his words brought her pain to the surface that she had thought she had gotten over. His face softened as he noticed her distress and to her surprise drew her into a hug. Holding Buffy in a gentle embrace, he spoke softly, giving a brief overview of all that had gone on, most of it centering around the brothers: Dean and Sam Winchester. “—and so I have no doubt that Dean will eventually give in, but I fear by that time Lucifer will reside in his true vessel and a great many lives, both human and angelic, will have been lost.”

            “Why wasn’t I told about the seals being broken?” she asked, pulling away from him.

            “Because you might have prevented Lucifer from being released.”

            She looked at him puzzled. “Wouldn’t that have been a good thing?”

            He gave her a rueful look. “Heaven is not united as it once was; many of my brothers are glad for this. They want the final battle to be over for good, no matter the cost.”

            “What did you want?” So help him, if he’d gone along with that brilliant plan she was going to pluck his wings.

            “Not this,” his face was full of sorrow, “because now I have to complete the order my Father gave to me: to stop the brother I raised and protected until he betrayed us, the brother I still love: Lucifer. I do not want to kill him.” He took a moment to compose himself, features hardening as he pushed back his emotions. “In order to complete my mission I must have a human vessel that can contain my power. If Dean Winchester will not consent, then I must seek out an alternative.” His powerful gaze caught her eyes and Buffy realized what this visit was all about.

            “Me?” she squeaked. “You want me as your vessel? What happened to that whole spiel about bloodlines and compatibility?”

            “Between your time spent in Heaven and your witch using you as the focus for activating the potential slayers on top of you being a Slayer, you have become more than capable of containing the full measure of my Grace.”

            She rubbed at the temples on her head, who knew you could develop a stress headache when dreaming. Her mind hurt as she weighed the pros and cons of what Michael was asking of her. She didn’t appreciate him putting her on the spot like this. He knew Buffy well enough to know that her conscience wouldn’t let her reject his request out right, no matter how much her mind was screaming at her to tell him, “hell, no.” However, if he thought he was getting full access without some ground rules, he was sadly mistaken. “I have conditions that you have to promise to follow before I’ll agree.”

            “Such as?”

            “First off: time share. I don’t want to be stuck in my head twenty-four/seven. If you’re not doing important angel business I get to pilot. When I’m not in control, I still want to be aware of everything that is happening, no stuffing me into a dark corner of my mind or sending me to sleep. Lastly and most important, take care of the goods. I want everything working right so I can go back to my life without a problem when you leave.” She put in that last condition because while she didn’t know how angels affected their hosts physical health, she knew demons just ran their victim’s bodies ragged until their power couldn’t keep it together anymore and they were forced to find another body, leaving the poor sap broken and, more than likely, dead.

            The archangel mulled over her conditions for several minutes, before deciding he should count his blessings that she wasn’t putting on any more restrictions. “Your terms are acceptable and I promise to do my best to abide by them.”

            The Slayer supposed that was the best she was going to get from him. She took a deep breath and looked into his eyes. “Then my answer is yes.”

            Once again, Michael gave her that beautiful smile that turned her legs to jelly. When this is all over, she told herself, I really need to look up this Dean Winchester and see if he’s available.

            Any further musings she might have were cut off as her vision went with and she suddenly felt as she had been set ablaze. There was pain, there was pleasure, and there was irritability. “Some warning would have been nice, Mikey!” Oh yeah, this is going to be fun.


	2. The Essentials

The one problem Buffy always had when it came to trips was the packing. She never could just pack the essentials because to her California girl state of mind everything she owned was essential. Naturally, because of this, she owned a huge set of luggage, which she had dug out.

She could feel Michael in the back of her mind, watching on curiously as she bustled about gathering items. “ **What are you doing**?” he asked in her mind.  Technically, he wasn’t a he. As an angel, Michael was both genders and neither, just as he was all races and none. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder and all that, angels were viewed differently by different people, if they could be seen at all without burning the viewers eyes out, unless they had taken a human vessel then they adopted that vessel’s gender. So really, being in a female vessel Michael should be referred to as “she” but to Buffy, Michael came off as masculine to her, especially his mental voice, except when the archangel was in control of her body, because otherwise that would be weird.

“ _I’m packing, who knows how long this is going to take and I want to be prepared_ ,” she answered him.

“ **I am an Archangel of the Lord; I do not need the hassle of transporting a bunch of unnecessary, worldly goods all over my Father’s Creation. I am afraid that I am going that I am going to have a great deal of animosity directed at me by my siblings as it is once they find out I have not followed the plan and waited to take Dean Winchester as my vessel** ,” Michael informed her.

“ _They’re necessary to me. Surely you don’t expect me to wear the same thing all the time, not to mention do without hygienic items and what do you mean by plan? It’s the apocalypse; the only plan should be stopping it_.”

“ **Unless you jump started it, then your priority is seeing it through** ,” he told Buffy, darkly. “ **This is not like the apocalypses you have dealt with before. Those just involved the destruction of the Earth or its enslavement, this is the final war between Heaven and Hell, and victor is champion for all eternity. The rest of the universe is just unfortunate enough to be caught in the middle.** ”

“ _Wait—the Apocalypse was jump started, you mean it wasn’t supposed to happen yet? Why didn’t you mention that before? I mean you said something about some of Heaven wanting the Apocalypse, not that they started the ball rolling._ ” They clearly were going to have to work on his communication skills.

“ **My siblings got impatient and decided now would be a good time for the final battle without Father in Heaven to say otherwise and I was too occupied with filling in as best as possible during his absence. The seals would never have broken so easily under any other circumstances, Hell has tried more than once.** ” He was decidedly unhappy; the emotions emanating from the Archangel were like a dark cloud across Buffy’s mind. “ **When I found out Lilith was trying again, I ordered a siege on Hell to rescue the Righteous Man, but I was too late and the first seal had already been broken. The others broke as my efforts to sufficiently protect them failed thanks to the hidden mechanics of Raphael and Zachariah**.” The feeling of betrayal from those closest to him emitted from Michael, an emotion Buffy was all too familiar with.

“ _So, regardless of who wins, humanity is screwed_.” She gave a sigh and ran a hand through her hair in frustration. “ _Look, there’s got to be some way to put a hold on all this. To you, killing Lucifer is as bad as me having to kill Dawn if she went evil. Isn’t there some way of imprisoning him again?_ ”

“ **I had not considered that as an option** ,” his voice adopted a thoughtful sound. Buffy could mentally picture him slapping himself upside the head in one of those “duh, why didn’t I think of that” moments. “ **I do not know much about the original sealing process; my job at the time was keeping Lucifer sufficiently distracted and weakened enough to be imprisoned in the first place**.”

“ _Who would know_?” Buffy asked quickly, jumping on the little ray of hope.

“ **Gabriel** ,” Michael said his brother’s name wistfully. “ **He left Heaven not long after Father and has been hiding since. The Host thinks he is dead, but I know I would have felt his loss**.”

“ _So we find him then, I’m sure someone in the supernatural community has to have heard something_ ,” she assured.

“ **Perhaps, but we need to stay under the radar. We do not want others to find out I am not playing ball, so to speak, so we need to avoid anyone in the Heavenly or Hellish limelight** ,” he warned her.

“ _So the Watchers and Slayers are out, as is anyone else I know_ ,” Buffy said, aware that the movements of her associates were kept track of by several beings on either side of the scale, she was too until she became host to Heaven’s strongest archangel. “ _That leaves who?_ ”

“ **I was thinking of the Winchester brothers. They have managed to find ways of hiding from angels and demons**.”

“ _Then how exactly are we supposed to find them_?”

“ **They have a family friend, a hunter named Bobby Singer. He would know how to get a hold of them** ,” the archangel mentioned. “ **His legs were paralyzed as a result of fighting off a demon possession. Healing him without asking for anything before hand should show my sincerity in being on their side**.”

“ _Sounds like a plan_ ,” she said cheerfully. “ _Now just let me finish packing_.”

“ **No** ,” he said firmly.

“ _But_ —”

“ **No, anything essential I can create with my Grace or fly back here for**.”

A puppy dog pout formed on Buffy’s face, which wasn’t all that affective seeing as how they were sharing the same body. “ _Fine_ ,” she relented, sighing.

The Slayer gave a mournful look at her luggage before mentally stepping backwards, putting the angel in the bodies driver’s seat. Michael wasted no time as she willed powerful, iridescent feathered wings into existence and took flight. The breeze created from the take off threw clothes and sent a letter Buffy had composed in case anyone came looking for her carelessly fluttering to the ground.


	3. Bobby

The flight of an angel is an experience hard to describe. To Buffy’s limited, human mind, it was pure freedom that lasted eternity and no time at all as they flew the ether, the void between the linear, physical reality and the spiritual plane.  When they touched down onto Earth, it took a minute for the Slayer’s mind to finally process what her eyes were seeing. She wanted to shake her head to get rid of the lingering effects of the ethereal experience but couldn’t as Michael still had control over her body. “ **It will not be so disorienting next time,** ” the archangel comforted her.

Since she couldn’t turn her head, Buffy could only take in what her eyes were perceiving at the time under Michael’s control. They were in a den cluttered with occult books and assorted paraphernalia, alcohol bottles with different levels of fulfillment, and various weapons including a shiny silver dagger that Buffy itched to get her hands on. By the desk where the dagger laid was the focus of Michael’s attention: a middle age, bearded man wearing a plaid button down, jeans, and a baseball cap, sitting in a wheelchair.

The man had a sawed-off shotgun pointed at them, ready to shoot, causing Buffy to feel a flash of fear that was quickly soothed away by the angel. “ **Do not worry, a bullet wound is barely an effort to heal** ,” assured Michael.  “ **In any case, the gun is loaded with rock salt. He most likely believes we are a demon, we are standing in a Devil’s Trap**.” Eyes rolled up to give Buffy a glimpse of the aforementioned intricate circle before returning to stare at the wheelchair bound man.

“ _Better prove we’re not, before he tries to turn us into a margarita_ ,” Buffy suggested, only half joking. Rock salt might not kill her but it would hurt like hell.

Michael spread her vessel’s hands outward in a gesture meant to convey non-aggressiveness as she walked forward, stopping a few feet from the man. “Peace, Robert Singer—Bobby,” Michael said serenely. “I am no demon.”

Bobby scowled at her. “Let me guess—you’re an angel,” he spit out, bitterly. “If your here to use me to get Dean to say ‘yes,’ to being an angel condom, then your lot are even bigger idjits than I thought.”

Buffy giggled, wishing she could see the flabbergasted expression she knew Michael was giving. Heaven’s greatest warrior was stunned that a mortal would talk to an angel in such a way. “ _He’s not the only rude human you’re going to have to deal with before all of this is over. Here’s how you should reply-_ ” Buffy instructed the clueless angel.

Michael cocked her head to the side and said in a puzzled voice, “My vessel says I should remind you of the expression about assumption and asses, though I do not understand what she means as neither have anything to do with one another.”

Buffy spluttered, “ _I thought we already went through the whole modern language tutorial.”_

The paralyzed hunter shook his head in exasperation. “Your girl meant the saying ‘to assume makes an ass out of you and me.”

“That does make sense,” Michael said after a moment of contemplation.

“So what exactly did I assume that makes me an ass: Dean saying ‘yes’ or that you’re an angel,” Bobby demanded.

“The part about Dean. You are right that I am an angel of the Lord, an archangel to be specific and as you can see, I already have a vessel,” Michael said, gesturing to Buffy’s petite frame.

Bobby lowered the shotgun in disbelief. “You’re Michael, the Michael who originally kicked Lucifer’s ass downstairs.”

Buffy winced at the sudden anguish radiating from Michael at the mention of what had to be the worst moment of the archangel’s existence. She mentally flailed under the pressure before Michael noticed the pain being caused by rampant emotions and pulled them back, shielding them from her while sending out soothing waves of apology.

“The same,” replied Michael, no hint of her emotional upheaval showing on her outward features.

The wheelchair bound man examined the archangel’s vessel with experienced eyes before scowling again. “I thought Dean was the only one that could be your vessel? If you had the blonde cheerleader, here, then why have your boys been buggin’ mine?”

Michael snorted and said, “I would be hard pressed to claim Zachariah as one of mine. No, he and his with their questionable methods are under Raphael. A vessel is not much use if their consent is forced and you have to fight them anytime you want to use a bit of Grace. In regards to Dean, he is my true vessel, all the Winchesters are potential vessels for me but he is the most compatible, the one I could use my full power and not worry about spontaneously combusting.  However, since he made it very clear he was not going to give permission, even after Zachariah showed him that rather disastrous potential future, I had to look into a second choice. Unlike some of my brothers, I take care to not leave my vessels harmed when I no longer need them, so finding one that could handle a measure of my Grace was quite the challenge. Fortunately for your hunter—circumstance or perhaps His plan made Buffy a suitable vessel and I have no intention in further pursuing Dean Winchester as one.”

“Well, good then.” He looked satisfied at the assurance. “So your vessel’s name is Buffy?” Bobby looked like he was fighting to hide his amusement.

The reaction to her name caused Buffy to huff and give a scathing reply that only Michael could hear. “Please do not make light of my vessel’s name, she does not appreciate it,” was all Michael felt the need to pass on.

“Wait—your vessel’s aware of what’s going on around her? I thought you angels left your vessel’s minds asleep or whatever.”

“Most of my brethren do put their vessels in a state of semi-conscience-ness, finding a fully awake human mind distracting. This was one of the conditions Buffy insisted upon before giving her consent,” she paused, letting Bobby absorb that information. “Now moving on, I came to you for two reasons: the first—” She moved forward rapidly and place a glowing hand on Bobby’s forehead before he could react. “Be healed, Bobby Singer.”

Buffy felt the warmth of the archangel’s Grace flow through her body, collecting into a healing glow that repaired the damage that had taken away the hunter’s use of his legs. When the luminescence faded, Michael removed the hand and stepped back. Bobby blinked his eyes rapidly before his mind finally registered the angel’s words. He looked down at his legs, a faint hope in his eyes that blossomed into sheer delight when he wiggled one of his feet. “Thanks,” he choked out as he stood up. He looked torn between gratitude and dread at what the personal miracle might cost him.

Sensing his thoughts, Michael said, “As Buffy would say, ‘That was a freebie,' but that does bring me to my second reason: I need the Winchesters help in locating my brother, Gabriel. He left Heaven some time ago and is somewhere on Earth. He may know how to seal Lucifer back up.”

“And thanks to the Enochian sigils Castiel branded them with you can’t find them, so you came to me for their location,” Bobby concluded. He silently studied the archangel, trying to determine how sincere Michael was.

Human and angel stared at one another for a time before Bobby let out a sigh. “I don’t know why, but I believe you really want to help. The boys are on a hunt now for a possible ally against Lucifer. I’ll give you their location but you have to bring me along.”

Michael nodded, knowing the hunter’s presence might help calm the brothers long enough for them to hear her request. “That is acceptable. I am curious, just who is this possible ally?”

“Someone they’ve come across before: a Trickster.” Michael looked at him patiently as Bobby proceeded to elaborate. “Trickster’s are demi-gods that can affect reality around them.” He talked about Dean and Sam’s previous encounters with the Trickster. Sam’s Groundhog Day episode gave Michael a pause.

“No pagan god is capable of manipulating time to such a degree, not anymore,” she said gravely, not bothering to explain the weakening of the Pagan gods due to lack of worship.

“Then what else is there,” Bobby demanded, worried about the brothers.

“A powerful angel…”

Buffy saw where Michael’s thoughts were going. “ _Maybe finding Gabriel won’t be such a pain after all._ ”


	4. Old and New Friends

Neither Dean nor Sam had answered their cell phones when Bobby called. Now he knew the town they were in but figured exact coordinates would be better, so the hunter tracked the GPS on Dean’s phone and gave them to his angelic guest. Michael filed away this method incase she ever needed to locate Dean on her own. A moment later angel and vessel were gone from Bobby’s house, hunter in tow.

They reappeared outside a non-descript abandoned warehouse. Michael had been right; it wasn’t as disorienting as the first flight on the Angel express. The archangel didn’t bother to check on their travel companion; instead she purposely marched towards the warehouse doors. Quiet footsteps alerted Buffy to the fact that Bobby was following without a word.

The place was dimly lit inside, the only real light a bright circle of Holy Fire that entrapped a man with three others standing outside the blaze. Buffy immediately recognized Dean Winchester and thought she could safely presume the tall, shaggy brunette man was his younger brother Sam, but she wasn’t sure about the third one. He was a handsome man in his early thirties with windblown dark hair and a five o’clock shadow wearing a navy blue suit, tie, and buff colored trench coat that had a desperate need to make a trip to the dry cleaners. Scratches and bruises adorned his face, indicating he’d been in a scuffle recently.

“ **That’s Castiel,”** Michael told her and information on the fallen angel flooded her mind. Buffy had to admit the mind link was pretty handy, instead of constantly explaining things to her, Michael could just download the information straight into her head. She knew now that Castiel was the angel that had pulled Dean’s soul out of Hell and went against orders from his superiors to help Dean stop the breaking of the last seal, only to get himself smote by the douche turtle Raphael. Castiel then was brought back to life by God, but had found himself cut off from Heaven’s power thanks to the mechanisms of Raphael and Zachariah. Without Heaven replenishing his Grace, Castiel was a shadow of his former self. Eventually the young angel would find himself completely human once he used up what was left of his Grace.

“ _That’s not right,”_ Buffy said indigent on Castiel’s behalf. “ _He was just following his heart.”_

“ **My Father did not grant angels the free will He gave you humans, to disobey is the greatest offence, even if the angel in question is ‘just following his heart.’ In this case it wasn’t an order from God that Castiel disobeyed so he was therefore following the right path. It is the others that are in error. Make no mistake there will be a reckoning when this is all over** ,” Michael explained.

“ _Well is there anything you can do to help the poor guy out, he looks like a lost puppy?_ ”

“ **I will soon** ,” the archangel promised as she made her way over to the group with Bobby keeping pace.

She could hear Dean asking Bobby about his legs and “who’s the babe,” but her eyes were intent on the figure trapped in the ring of fire.

Golden haired and slightly taller than Buffy, which made him fairly short for a guy, the man was one of those people who could fade into the background, unless you knew who he really was. “Gabriel,” she breathed as she gazed upon her brother for the first time since Christ walked the Earth.

Eyes widened in surprise and then narrowed as he studied her intently. An amused smile appeared on his face as God’s Messenger realized just who he was looking at. “Hey big bro, or is it sis now? Mind helping a guy out?” he said, nonchalantly, gesturing to the surrounding fire.

“I will when I’m sure you won’t run away,” she said before turning her attention to the others. She ignored Gabriel’s protest, if he was going to act like he hadn’t done anything wrong then he could damn well wait. She didn’t pay any attention to the part of her saying she was being petty and letting her vessel have way to much influence over her thoughts. That was the side affect of allowing Buffy to remain awake. It also might be an advantage, for while Michael lacked free will that was something Buffy had in abundance.

“ _Thanks, Mikey_ ,” Buffy said, catching the last thought. The Slayer wisely refrained from mention the fact that Michael had sort of already displayed free will by taking her as a vessel instead of waiting for Dean.

“Michael,” Castiel addressed her, his voice both reverent and respectful and just a bit defiant.  Midnight painted wings, hidden from mortal sight, trembled; betraying his fear though his pose and facial expressions were stoic as he gazed upon her.

She could hear Dean blurting out, “Michael is a hot chick?” This was followed by him yelping as Bobby and Sam slapped him upside the head in unison. She raised her eyebrows in amusement at the three before turning her attention back to her poor, fallen little brother.

Castiel stiffened as she approached him, but made no other move; he knew he didn’t have a hope of fighting off a free archangel. Michael cupped his head in her hands gently. She heard a cry of protest and could see in the corner of her eye the Winchesters trying to come to their friend’s rescue only to be stopped by Bobby Singer, who muttered assurances and pointed out that she’d healed his legs. Michael gave Castiel a warm smile before leaning forward and placing a familial kiss upon his forehead. Grace flared where her lips touched skin as Castiel was restored to the Holy Host.

Blue eyes glistened with unshed tears as she released him, the pure relief naked on his face. “Cass, you okay?” Dean asked as Bobby let him hurry over to his friend.

Castiel gave a small smile that was so endearingly cute, if Buffy had control she would have squealed and hugged him. Michael had to squish the urge as it was passed on to her through their bond, it wouldn’t do for an Archangel of the Lord to behave like a teenage fangirl. “My connection to Heaven has been restored, I am no longer Fallen,” Castiel informed Dean.

“That should not have happened in the first place, Raphael was out of line,” Michael muttered under her breath.

“I did disobey,” Castiel pointed out softly. Dean gave him a ‘shut up before you get in trouble’ look.

“You did not. God never said to start the Apocalypse at this time. If the order did not come from His lips or mine as his steward while He is gone and you did not break any of our most sacred laws—which you have not—then you certainly did not deserve to be cast out,” she said firmly.

“Well that’s nice, I’m glad Cass got his wings back and all, but could someone please free me?” Gabriel interrupted.

“First you answer my question: Is there a way to re-imprison Lucifer?” she asked him.

Gabriel’s eyes widened as understood what she planned. “You can’t do that, you have to kill him and end it all, Dad said so.”

“He said stop Lucifer, He never specified how. I would think you would want me to let him live,” Michael said.

“I just want it to be over with,” the other archangel said sullenly. “I’m tired of all the fighting.”

“What of humanity, Gabriel? If Lucifer and I have our Final Battle, humanity’s time comes to an end regardless of who wins,” her tone was acerbic. “After all this time on Earth, I would have thought you would have developed a soft spot for them.”

“You’d save some of them,” Gabriel tried to assure himself, but there was no confidence in his words.

“There is no guarantee I would win against Lucifer,” she admitted.

“But you did before,” Sam protested, entering the conversation.

Michael turned her gaze upon Sam Winchester, Lucifer’s One True Vessel. There were many similarities to her forsaken brother, but she sensed Sam had already learned lessons on the importance of family that Lucifer had missed. She acknowledged his statement with a nod. “True, but circumstances have changed. I had my Father’s full backing during that battle, but now that He has left I just have the power I was granted at Creation. Without the boost of power my Father provided, Lucifer and I are far to even to begin to guess the winner.”

A disappointed, “Oh,” was all the reply Sam could give. He looked at Gabriel, soulful brown eyes pleading. The hurt, puppy dog look was the same one he’d given Gabriel in his Trickster persona when he requested he turn back time before his brother’s death during the whole Groundhog’s Day episode.

Shoulders slumped in defeat as Gabriel said, “Fine, fine, just stop giving me that look. Honestly it should be outlawed.” He dug into his pocket and pulled out a couple of tootsie rolls, which he promptly unwrapped and tossed in his mouth. “Your right, Lucy’s prison is still there, you just need four keys to open it before you can toss him in or should I say four rings-” he paused to build the suspense, “from the Horsemen.”

The warehouse was completely silent, except for the flames of holy fire that steadily burned, as this new information was absorbed. “Well, we have War’s ring,” Dean said, attempting to be positive. “Just three more to go.”

“Oh, is that all?” came the sarcastic response from Bobby.

“What I’d like to know is if we succeed is it permanent?” spoke Sam, softly.

Gabriel snorted. “I wish, no all you’re doing is resetting the clock for Armageddon.”

“So the seals that were broken will be back?”

“Only the first and last ones will be reestablished, the other sixty-four seal that would have to be broken will come from what remains of the original six hundred possible seals.”

“Wasn’t the last seal the death of the first demon, Lilith? Is she going to be brought back?” Dean asked, frowning.

“Sort of, if she was made good as new, Lilith would just start breaking the seals right away, so Dad thought that if this ever happened then Lilith should be reborn as a human with no memories. If she dies and goes to Hell then she automatically regains her memories and demon hood, but if she’s a good girl then she just gets to be reborn over and over again until she screws up.”

“So, Heaven’s not even an option–no matter how good her new incarnation is?” Sam wondered.

“Dad would have to personally grant her Salvation and he’ll forgive Lucy first,” said Gabriel in the ‘never in a million years will that happen’ tone of voice.

“Dude, you’re not actually feeling sorry for the Hell bitch?” Dean said, incredulously.

“I just think it’s a raw deal,” Sam said defensively.

“Whatever,” Dean rolled his eyes, “Bitch.”

“Jerk,” came the automatic reply.

“Enough with the love fest,” exasperated Gabriel. “Mikey, free me, please.” He drew out the last would like a whiney child might, bouncing forward on his feet. Buffy was quick to whisper a suggestion to the archangel she shared a body with.

Michael gave a mischievous grin and with a twirl of her right pointer finger the fire extinguisher sprinklers opened up and drenched the area below. As soon as the holy fire was sufficiently snuffed out, a cut motion with the same finger stopped the water. Gabriel stood in a giant puddle, drenched and spluttering. Dean was laughing so hard he had tears coming from his eyes, while Sam was unsuccessfully trying to hid a grin, Bobby gave a long suffering sigh and muttered, “idjits,” and Castiel was starring in open eyed surprise.

The soaked archangel tried to give his elder sibling a deadly glare but it didn’t last long before his face twitched and he let out a good natured laugh before snapping his fingers and instantly drying himself. To her astonishment, Gabriel swept her up in a tight hug—she could hear Castiel make a noise of surprise at the blatant human-like display of affection. “I really did miss you,” he admitted to her, when he released her.

Michael’s eyes softened at his confession. She reached out and ruffled his hair in a manner Buffy had often done to Dawn. “Just don’t take off like that again,” Michael said softly, her tone letting him know she forgave him.

“Okay, seriously, enough with the chick flick moments, you’re making me nauseous,” interrupted Dean.

Bobby slapped him upside the head, again. “Don’t go provoking the archangels, idjit.”

“Will everyone stop hitting me,” Dean muttered, nursing his head.

“But you’re so fun to hit,” Gabriel said, cheerfully.

Michael tried to give an admonishing glare, which wasn’t very effective.

“Could we please get back on track?” Castiel pleaded.

“Cass is right, what’s our next move?” Sam jumped in.

“I wish to continue looking for God,” Castiel stated before any orders could be issued.

Michael saw the stubborn expression on her baby brother’s face and sighed. “I can see you will not be talked out of your search. Very well, return to Heaven discretely and talk to Joshua. He has been silent on the matter, but perhaps he will talk to you.”

“Joshua?” Sam questioned.

“Joshua is the caretaker of the Garden, the center of Heaven. He’s the only one that Father would speak to on a regular basis and perhaps they might still be in contact,” Michael explained, before continuing to issue orders. “Gabriel, I want you to maintain your Trickster disguise. Use any contacts you have to try to find the rest of the Horsemen.”

“Can do, Sis,” Gabriel said, saluting. “What about you and Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum over there?”

Michael was confused at the reference, until Buffy quickly supplied her memories of Alice in Wonderland or at least the Disney animated version of the story. “I want them to continue hunting, like normal, we do not want to let either side perceive our plans. Meanwhile, I will be with them in case any of our brothers are fortunate in their search for the Winchesters.”

“Whoa, hold it!” Dean said, making the gesture for a time out. “Won’t anybody in Heaven miss you? You’ll just lead them to us when they come looking.”

“I have considered that,” Michael acknowledged. “That is why I plan to relinquish control to my vessel. As a Slayer, her power should be enough to hide mine if I limit myself. Just as an extra precaution, Castiel, would you be so kind as to give my vessel the same Enochian sigil you provided the Winchesters, before you leave?”

“Of course, sister,” Castiel answered.

“Then be safe, both of you,” she addressed her brothers before drawing herself back and thrusting Buffy back into control.

The change in control was slight but obvious to the others, like the figurative difference between work mode and letting ones hair down. The group stared at her intently. Buffy shrugged off any discomfort at the looks and gave her best smile. “Hi, I’m Buffy Summers.” Dean opened his mouth to comment, but remembering his earlier behavior, she cut him off by adding, “Make fun of my name and I’ll break your arm.”

“I didn’t even say anything!” Dean protested immediately.

“Yet you knew who she meant,” Sam muttered, causing Dean to give him a hurt look.

Gabriel snickered. “Oh, I like you. I think you’ll be good for Mikey,” he said, winking. “Try to keep yourselves in one piece while I’m gone.”  Buffy caught a glimpse of red and gold feathered wings as he left.

“Sure he’s not just going to find someplace to hide?” Dean said acerbically.

“Have some faith,” Buffy told him while mentally try to calm Michael down, whom was radiating righteous fury at the insult to Gabriel.

“I have to tried to teach him this,” Castiel said, giving Dean a reproving look, which Dean ignored. This was obviously an old argument because Castiel didn’t bother pursuing it, instead moved towards Buffy. “I shall give you the sigil now.” A hand was placed against her chest and she felt a quick burn as the protective symbols were carved into her ribs.

“Well now that’s done, how about we go get something to eat, I’m starving,” Buffy suggested.

“Sounds good,” Dean agreed, always ready for food. “You can tell us about how you ended up a meat suit for an archangel and what did Michael mean by Slayer?”

“Fine, but food first.”


	5. Dinner Talk

Castiel declined the offer to go with them, wishing to hurry up and speak with Joshua. It was just as well, the back seat of the Impala would have been crowded with three adults, even one as tiny as Buffy. The restored angel gave a quick farewell, before taking off to Heaven.

The two Winchester brothers, the old hunter, and a Slayer and Archangel ended up at a quaint Ma and Pa’s restaurant. Dean had wanted to go to a cheap, greasy spoon, but was happy to change his mind when Buffy offered to pay.

The server had already brought their drinks and taken their orders before they got down to business. “So have any of you heard of the Slayer?” Buffy asked.

“Not unless you mean the band,” Dean answered flippantly.

“You mean the Vampire Slayer?” Sam asked. Buffy nodded. “Just some vague rumors, never gave much thought of them since vampires are suppose to be extinct—well almost.”

“You’re thinking the wrong breed,” Bobby interjected. “The Slayer is supposed to be a girl with the strength and skill to take on the demonic vampires.”

“There are demon vampires? How come I’ve never heard of them?” Dean demanded to know.

Buffy shrugged. “Most hang around mystical convergences, like Hellmouths, that do wonky things to people’s perceptions. Those that don’t are adept at avoiding hunters.” The look on Dean’s face told her that he was upset that there were monsters running around that he didn’t know about. “I’ll take you on a hunt some time. They’re easy to kill, wood to the heart, beheading, fire, and have acid-like allergic reactions to sunlight, holy water, and crosses, can’t enter a human-owned private building without an invite—you know, the old wives’ tales.”

“So you’re this Slayer, how’s that work?” Sam said, curiously.

“A long, long time ago, some creepy old guys decided to fight fire with fire and made a weapon against evil by infusing a girl with the essence of a demon— ” She trailed off and got a glazed look on her face as Michael relayed information to her. “Okay, scratch that, according to my house guest, it was the tainted grace of a fallen angel before he had time to convert to a demon that was used and the dark angel was destroyed afterwards.” “ _Does that mean Slayers are part angel?_ ”

“ **Only vaguely, the First Slayer was something of a Nephilim—who were the children of a coupling between the sons of God and daughters of Man and killed off during the Great Flood—but as the remnants of Grace have been passed to each of your predecessors and is now split amongst all those newly called ones, the power contained is a long way from its Heavenly origins.** ”

“ _Oh.”_ This bummed her out slightly as Buffy thought having angel mojo without sharing head space would be cool—not that she minded Michael’s company she hastily added, not wanting to offend Heaven’s greatest warrior.

“ **It is a possibility that you may gain some ‘angel mojo,’ as you call it, if the presence of my Grace acts like a catalyst to strengthen your piece**.”

“ _That’d be neat_.”

Bobby cleared his throat, bringing her attention back to the other members of her group that weren’t sharing her body. She belatedly noticed the server had brought their orders. “So anyways, these so called Shadowmen then created a line of potential slayers, so when the current Slayer died another was chosen from the potentials,” Buffy continued. “So Slayers came and went- an organization called the Watchers was formed to train and guide the Slayer and potentials, though somewhere along the way they became jerks, but that’s another story. Somehow I was never identified as part of the Slayer line until I was called when I was fifteen.” She spoke briefly of her career as the Slayer, from her first master vampire, Lothos, and the loss of her first Watcher, Merrick, to the fight against the First Evil and the activation of all the potentials. She only highlighted the events, not going into too much detail to save time.

Sam was especially interested in her time in Heaven. “What was it like?”

“Oh it’s different for everyone, but being a Champion of Good I got access to a bit more than the average Joe would. I got to hang out with the angels, even got into an argument with the Archangel Raphael.” She failed to mention that every human was alone in their own personal Heaven—not counting soulmates who share—and that there was no real reunion with loved ones.

“ **It was not that way when my Father still sat on His celestial throne. Souls used to be able to visit one another, but when He left the consensus among the Host was that order would be easier to maintain if all the humans were confined to their own sections, except for the occasional Saint or Champion.”**

“ _No offense, but that’s a sucky reason to go all Matrix on Heaven’s human population._ ” She shoved her memories of the movie trilogy at him.

“ **Yes-well, maybe some changes can be implemented when this is over**.”

“ _Please and thank you.”_

“Cass and I met the ninja turtle,” Dean mentioned, bringing Buffy’s attention away from her internal guest. “Trapped him in Holy Fire and grilled him about the location of God, not that he knew anything but the usual spiel. Though it was totally worth the trouble to hear Cass call him, ‘My little bitch.’” Dean smirked fondly at the memory.

Michael shook his mental head in amusement. “ **That explains Raphael’s unaccounted for absence and the fit he had when he finally returned. That Castiel has become so bold—I’m not sure whether to congratulate or censure him.** ”

“ _Congrats—we both know Raphael deserves to be called worse_.” “Wish I could have seen that,” Buffy said wistfully.

“Stop going off on tangents and finish your story,” Bobby interrupted gruffly.

“Right, so all the Slayer potentials had been activated and a lot of the Watcher’s killed off with the HQ’s destruction, our first task was to rebuild the Watcher’s council. Luckily most of the field agents had survived, so once that was done we located all the Slayers and saw to it they got trained even if they didn’t plan on following their calling. When everything was settled, Dawn went off to college and I retired—or more like forced into retirement—and lived a normal boring life. After fighting for my life nearly every night the domestic life has lost its appeal, when Michael came to me, I was more than happy to jump right back in.” She didn’t mention the reason for the forced retirement and the hunters sensing a sore subject wisely didn’t ask. Let’s just say the subject of her FUBAR in Sunnydale that led to the death of a group of potentials and her quality of leadership came up.

“I think you’re crazy for letting yourself be possessed, angelic or otherwise, but as it lets me off the hook I can’t complain,” Dean said lightly. He gave her a flirtatious grin. “Certainly can’t fault Michael’s taste in vessels.”

Buffy rolled her eyes, even though she was secretly flattered. Bobby growled, “Now’s not the time to be flirting with angel girl.”

“It’s the Apocalypse, there’s not going to be a good time. ‘Sides it’s not like we got any clues to go on right now,” Dean muttered before taking a huge bite of his cherry pie that had just been served.  He had already downed a huge Bacon and cheese Angus burger and helping of fries. Buffy had been just as quick to finish off her plate of chicken fingers and fries in between speaking, while Bobby with his fried chicken and sides of a loaded bake potato and asparagus had ate at a more leisurely pace. Sam had alternated between delicately picking at his Caesar salad and surfing the internet on his Blackberry, all while listening to Buffy talk.

“Actually we might,” Sam interjected, he indicated to the device in his palm. “Just got a text from Chuck, he needs to see us immediately, it’s an emergency.”

“Let’s go then,” Dean said, stuffing the rest of the pie slice into his mouth much to Buffy’s disgust.

“Who’s Chuck?” the Slayer questioned as she paid the bill.

“A drunken Prophet of the Lord,” the eldest Winchester replied. “He gives us a heads up whenever he sees something big going down.”

They had left the restaurant and were approaching the Impala when Michael sent her a thought which she voiced, “You know Michael could just take us to this Prophet without all the driving.”

“No,” Dean said furiously. “No, angelic mojo zapping of my persons if I can help it.”

Their female companion held up her hands in surrender at his vehemence. “It was just an idea, sorry, won’t suggest it again.”

“Good.”

“Well, I could use some wing power to get home,” Bobby drawled. “I’m not tagging along.”

“Right, one trip back to your house coming up. We’ll give you a call when we know something.” One mystical gesture and a brief flare of Grace from Michael and the previously occupied spot was empty in a blink. She turned to the Winchester brothers. “Let’s get going—I call shotgun!”


	6. Free Will

Heaven was surprisingly easy to sneak into for the newly restored angel. The few angels that might have noticed Castiel’s presence, the remnants of his old garrison, were stationed on Earth, the rest were more concerned with the Apocalypse than to watch for a traitor angel they believed so weakened to be just a step above human. It took little effort to reach the center of Heaven, the Garden—God’s throne room—empty now but for a single caretaker, the one Castiel had come to see: Joshua.

The Garden appeared different to everyone, some saw a magnificent golden throne, others a garden of flawless radiance, or the closest equivalent they knew of if the observer were human. To Castiel it was Eden, the brilliant variety of plant life, each of which was meticulously trimmed and positioned just right, was the epitome of perfection. “Thank you, it is always nice to have my work appreciated,” came the humble voice of Joshua.

Castiel eyed the gardener of Eden in curiosity; he had never really met this particular brother that had direct contact with their Father. Though his Grace radiated brightly, Joshua hid his true form taking on the appearance of a dark skinned human male in honor of their Father or so Castiel had heard—the other members of the Host were split between finding the habit quaint and offensive.

“Joshua,” Castiel acknowledged, nodding in polite greeting.

“I know why you’ve come here, Castiel,” the other angel stated.

“So you are still in contact with our Lord Father?”

“Yes and he has given me message for you,” Joshua said. “He knows.”

Castiel stood ramrod straight as he processed those words. “What-” he stammered.

“He knows; about Lucifer and Michael, the Apocalypse, your search for Him, all of it.”

“Then why hasn’t He stopped it?” Castiel asked. The recent emotions he’d learned while on Earth rampaged in turmoil, doubt and uncertainty overwhelming the miniscule amount of faith and hope he’d still possessed.

Joshua gave the younger angel a sad look of understanding. “He cannot interfere-not directly-otherwise the test would cease to have meaning.”

“What test?”

Joshua shrugged uncomfortably. “A test of free will, of whether humans deserve their freedom, whether we angels are worthy of freewill; a test of family and friends and so much more. As it is, our Lord has helped out more than He has in a long time: He brought you back to life, He saved Sam and Dean Winchester when Lucifer first rose, and He made Michael’s absence and taking of a new vessel unnoticed to Heaven and Hell. Now He’s done helping, the rest is up to you.”

Castiel was of course conflicted; intellectually he understood God’s reasons as much as one, even an angel, could understand the Ineffable Divine, but that part of him that had put all his faith in his Father felt betrayed. The devastation he felt must have shown of his face—formerly his vessel Jimmy’s—for Joshua clasped his shoulder in comfort. “Our Father is proud of the decisions you’ve made—well all but one,” he told the warrior angel, “Anael.”

Castiel flinched in guilt at the angelic name of his fallen sister, Anna, whom he set up to be captured by Zachariah’s lackeys. At the time he thought he was in the right, following Heaven’s orders, now he knew he’d allowed one of the few angels left who truly cared about humanity to be imprisoned. Joshua squeezed his shoulder. “You did her a great wrong, delivering her into Zachariah’s hands. He’s attempted to brainwash her the way he did you, but her time as a human has made Anael stubborn as any of mankind and their efforts are falling short. If Zachariah cannot control her, he will destroy her; you must take her back to Earth with you.”

“Anna will be guarded, I’ll reveal my presence in Heaven if I break her out,” Castiel said. He really wanted to help her, but all he would do would be able to do would bring the entire Host down on both their heads.

“Not necessarily,” Joshua said, releasing Castiel and gesturing for the other angel to follow.

Joshua led him through the garden and to a simple set of gates that were tucked away, unnoticeable unless pointed out. Using his finger tip, Joshua burned Enochian symbols into the gates with his Grace. Castiel recognized them as a spell to open a portal to a human’s private Heaven. “The gate is less noticeable than us flying,” Joshua explained at Castiel’s look of confusion. They then stepped though the gate and into another part of Heaven.

The small section of Heaven took the form of a bar, one that he had seen in the memories of Dean and Sam: the Roadhouse. They were greeted by a mullet sporting man. Ash, whom had lost his life when Azazel had attacked the bar belonging to Ellen Harvelle.  “Josh, my man, I’m glad your back.” He lowered his voice, “She’s not getting any better.” He glanced back briefly.

Castiel followed his glance and his blue eyes widened; there shivering helplessly on a pallet that had been tucked behind some chairs was Anna. In an instant he was kneeling by the red-haired angel’s side. He was overwhelmed with guilt as he took in his sister’s sickly form. What Zachariah had put him through had clearly been a light sentence to what Anna had to endure. “I’m so very sorry,” he whispered, running hands through crimson hair in a comforting motion he’d observed humans perform.

Eyes cracked open to glare at him as she weakly raised a hand and slapped him lightly on the cheek. “Bad Castiel, no cookie for you,” Anna whispered before drifting back into unconsciousness. It was such an inane human response he had to crack a small smile of relief, mentally she’d be fine, eventually.

“Well that’s more than she’s said for a while,” Ash informed him. “Not since Josh showed up with Miss Fugitive and she was saying some very non-angelic words about her family; Enochian is such a versatile language.”

Castiel was unsurprised by her reaction; he was more interested in Joshua’s involvement. “You saved her?” he enquired.

“Anael had already made her escape on her own but was too injured to make the journey to Earth, I just found her some help to hide,” Eden’s caretaker replied, gesturing to Ash.

Castiel nodded politely to the human soul. “Thank you,”

“You’re Castiel, the angel who pulled Dean from the Pit, right?” Castiel nodded again. “I’m always happy to help a friend of the Winchesters, I am worried about her not getting any better,” the tech genius replied.

“Suppressing her Grace to hide as she has has rendered Anael’s healing to almost human slow. She needs to be taken to Earth as soon as possible.” Joshua explained.

Seeing no time like the present, Castiel gently picked up his sister bridal style. Anna mumbled at the movement but did not wake. “Hey, tell those walking disasters that are the Winchester bros to take care, I don’t want to see them anytime soon—again.” He shook his head. “Those boys die more times than anyone else that I know of.”

“I will.”

“Oh and if you see Ellen and Jo Harvelle send my love.”

There was a pause of silence as Castiel tried to remember who they were as he’d never met the mother/daughter duo, before he replied, “I shall if I meet them.”

“I wish you the best,” was Joshua’s farewell.

With Anna safely held in his arms, Castiel was soon flying through the ether and to the safest place on Earth he could think of for her to recover from her captivity.

They appeared in the middle of Bobby Singer’s living room with no warning, much to the man’s displeasure. “Don’t you winged menace ever knock?” the old hunter grumbled, putting down the shotgun he had grabbed.

“My apologies, but I require the use of your panic room,” Castiel said.

It was then Bobby noticed the passenger the angel carried. “Right and maybe after you get her settled you can explain what happened in Heaven,” Bobby said.

Castiel nodded wearily.


	7. Will The Real Sam and Dean Please Stand Up?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credit to www.tvrage.com for the episode recap.

It didn’t take long to get Anna settled onto the drab bed in Bobby’s panic room, but Castiel didn’t immediately begin to explain what had occurred in Heaven and instead opted to summon Gabriel. Castiel would have called Michael as well but thought it wise not to draw attention to the hidden archangel and instead resolved to call Dean at a later time.

Gabriel appeared in the demon-proof room nonchalantly nibbling at an oversized batch of bright pink cotton candy. “What’s up?” he asked around a mouth full of spun sugar, eyes darting around the room to take in the unconscious Anna, stoic Castiel, and bad tempered Bobby.

Sighing at his brother’s immaturity, Castiel proceeded to explain all that had occurred in Heaven. When he finished, Gabriel’s face wasn’t so cheerful. “So we’re on our own after all,” he said, sadly. The archangel had foolishly hoped Michael’s change in plans would prompt their Father into direct action, but he wasn’t surprised by the news that He wouldn’t, just slightly disappointed. He dropped his cotton candy, the fluffy pink cloud disappearing before it could hit the floor, and approached Anna. “I’m a little out of practice but let’s see what I can do for Anael.”

Castiel could see the brilliant glow of Grace from the Archangel surround Anna: soothing away pain, knitting bone and sinew, and recharging her own Grace until she was filled to the brim with the holy power. “Now a mind-meld to bring her up to speed,” Gabriel said before engaging in a temporary mental bond that would leave Anna informed of all that had gone on during her captivity. “And wa-la, good as new,” he said. As Anna’s eyes began to flutter open, Gabriel added, “By the way bro, I suggest you do some groveling so she doesn’t kick your ass.”

Castiel grimaced and wondered how things were going with Dean and the others.

 

The black Impala screeched to a halt in the parking lot of the Pineview Hotel. Dean, Sam, and Buffy (plus one angelic tagalong) got out of the car in a hurry, anxious to find out what emergency would prompt the Prophet of the Lord to call on them. Dean paused, mid-step in his quick pace as he observed a row of parked Impala’s nearly identical to his baby. He stared in confusion until a “Hurry up, slowpoke,” from Buffy snapped him out of his daze. He quickly caught up to his brother and the blond.

“Dude, did you not see all those Impalas?”

The two gave him funny looks. “No,” Sam answered and left it at that.

They approached a scruffy looking man who was pacing back and forth in front of the hotel main door nervously. “Hey Chuck, we got here as fast as we could, what’s the emergency?” Sam greeted.

Chuck looked very surprised to see them. “What are you guys doing here?” he asked unhappily.

“You texted us, said it was an emergency,” Dean explained.

Chuck’s confused face changes as something dawns on him and he starts cursing under his breath. His tirade is cut off by the most God awful- _sorry, Michael_ -squealing Buffy has ever heard coming from a hyperactive dirty blond-haired girl running out of the hotel. The girl clutches Sam’s arm in delight and plasters herself to his side like a barnacle.

“Hi, Becky,” Sam muttered, face twitching as he unsuccessfully tried to pry her off.

“Becky, did you steal my phone and text them?” Chuck asked.

“I only borrowed it,” Becky corrected, “from your pants. I just thought they should see it.”

“See what?” asked Buffy.

It was then that Chuck and Becky really noticed her. “Who’s she?” Becky asked with a jealous voice, her grip on Sam’s arm tightened noticeably.

“What was the last vision you had?” Sam asked as he continued to try and loosen Becky’s grip, his arm was beginning to fall asleep from the lack of blood circulation. Michael had explained to Buffy that Chuck wrote his visions down in the form of a series of novels called “Supernatural” under the pseudonym Carver Edlund and that the angels referred to as the “Winchester Gospels.” Apparently he had only gotten the series published up to where Dean went to Hell, but had continued to write as the visions came to him.

“You had found out the Trickster was the archangel Gabriel and trapped him in holy fire before interrogating him, then you all leave but not before Dean frees Gabriel by triggering some fire sprinklers after telling Gabriel that he was to afraid to stand up to his family.”

Dean smiled and turned to Buffy. “You broke prophecy,” he said happily.

Chuck gives a confused look, which prompts Dean to explain. “Sure we had the joker trapped and then comes along this blonde girl-named Buffy-and guess what,” he lowers his voice, “she’s Michael’s current vessel-though he’s letting her in the driver’s seat for now.”

“But that’s totally off script!” Chuck blurted out, looking surprised.

“I know, ain’t it great?”

“Don’t worry, it’s been my experience that not even prophecy is always right,” Buffy assured him. “I also think if your Father had objections to your changing the script He would have done something, ineffable and all that.”

“Perhaps.” There was something in the Prophet’s gaze that Michael couldn’t comprehend as he looked upon them.

Anymore of the topic was cut off as a man called to Chuck, saying, “It’s time.”

Becky finally released Sam and gives another of her ear splitting squeals before bounding into the hotel. “Guys, I’m sorry for everything,” Chuck stuttered, eyes on the ground, before following Becky inside.

Confused Sam, Dean, and Buffy follow Chuck into the hotel and what they find leaves them gapping in disbelief. It’s like a fun house of mirrors full of Sam and Deans of every shape and size and the occasion opposite gender. A portly guy in a Dean imitation leather jacket greets them as they walk through the door. “Hey Dean, looking good!”

“Who the hell are you?” the real deal growls out.

“I’m Dean too, duhhh,” the guy says, rolling his eyes.

A passing man in a scarecrow shaped monster mask shakes a plastic scythe in his hand. “I’m in trouble now!”

An annoying giggle can be heard from Becky as she approaches them. Survival instincts kicking in, Sam hides himself behind Buffy, which is funny to see, being that he’s almost twice her height.

“What is this?” Dean asks disturbed. Not only are there the Sam and Dean imitators, but creepy clowns, people dressed  as ghost and witches, the occasional person sporting yellow eye contacts.

“Iiiiiiiiiiiiiiittts awesome!” Becky replies cheerfully. “A ‘Supernatural’ convention, the first ever.”

Looks of horror are exchanged by the Winchester brothers and Buffy promptly bursts out laughing.

Becky dragged them to the main convention room, which is located in the hotel ballroom, where they stand in the back. Sam and Dean unhappily observed the room with arms crossed as Buffy continued to softly giggle. The situation is so very amusing to her, much to Michael’s confusion. “ **I fail to see how this is funny**.”

Buffy mentally waves him off. “ _This is one of those situations that if you don’t get it, I can’t explain it_.”

“ **I see**.” Which he clearly did not, but chalked it up to one of her human quirks and left it at that.

In the front on stage is the convention host who is announcing some of the panels the convention is featuring—one of which is “Frightened Little Boy: The Secret Life of Dean,” which sends Buffy into another fit of laughter, and one on the homoerotic subtext of the series that causes all sorts of naughty images to play in her head. Buffy savagely squashed the imagery when she realizes Michael is fascinated by them—wouldn’t do to corrupt an angel.

Michael gives a mental snort. “Trust me, I’ve been around since before you humans were even a concept to my Father, there’s not much I haven’t seen.”

“—the hunt will begin around 7pm and now welcome the creator and write of ‘Supernatural:’ Carver Edlund.”

Chuck walked onto the stage, clearly nervous, and mumbled nonsense into the microphone before saying something about dry mouth and gulping down half of a nearby bottle of water. He then opened the floor to questions; at once everyone raised their hands.

“How did you come up with the idea of Supernatural?” was the first question.

“Well it just came to me, in a dream, really.” Technically true-he just failed to mention just who sent that dream.

The next question was from a German guy in a floppy hat and faux hook on his hand. “Ya. Vy in every fight scene, Sam and Dean are having their knife or their gun knocked avay by ze bad guy? Vy don’t they keep it on some kind of bungee?”

Chuck was clearly stumped by the question with no idea how to respond. Sam and Dean share a contemplative glance, considering the idea. The Prophet is saved from answering by the German guy sneaking in another question. “Vy doesn’t anybody tell Sam that Ruby is evil? Because she clearly is…” Sam shifted, guiltily.

Superfan Becky stormed up to the guy ready to defend her beloved Sam. “If you don’t like the books then don’t read ‘em, Fritz!” she yelled.

Chuck calmed Becky down and then took the next question: “What happens after Dean goes to Hell in the final book?” By this time Buffy has come to the decision to read the Winchester Gospel, she doesn’t like not knowing what everyone is talking about.

“ **That won’t be necessary** ,” Michael said. Instantly an entire series worth of words have been uploaded into Buffy’s head. She now knew the books so well she could probably quote them word for word out loud if she tried and it wasn’t just the ones that had been published but Chuck’s unpublished gospels as well. Fritz had been right; Ruby had obviously been evil from the start.

“You’re going to find that out, thanks to a wealthy Scandinavian investor, I’m going to start publishing again.” The whole room erupts into whoops and cheers and the impromptu happy dance while Dean and Sam stare once again in horrified shock.

Chuck quickly made his escape in the celebratory confusion that by the time Winchesters snap out of their shock and go after the Prophet he’s at the hotel bar in the lobby attempting to ask Becky out.

“Why are you publishing again?” demands Dean.

“Um, for food and shelter,” Chuck replied weakly.

“Who the Hell gave you the rights to our life story?”

“An archangel,” is the reply as he points at Buffy, “and I didn’t want it.”

The boys glance at Buffy and remember exactly who she’s sharing head space with. They decide without a word that it’s probably not a smart idea to threaten a Prophet of the Lord in front of an archangel. Michael wouldn’t likely smite them in the middle of the apocalypse but if he was anything like Gabriel then he was capable of making their lives very miserable.

Chuck sighed. “Look the Supernatural books are the only way I can make a living—” He was interrupted by a bloody murder female scream that cut across the entire hotel like a banshee cry. Less than a second later the Winchesters and Slayer were rushing to the source, not heeding Chuck as he tried to call after them.

To be continued in:

Chapter Eight: Scooby Doo, Where Are You?


	8. Scooby Doo Where Are You?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credit to www. tvrage. com for the episode recap that I worked from for this chapter. I tried to be true to the episode while fitting Buffy in.

The origin of the scream was a terrified maid who claims to have seen a ghost. Fake Sam and Deans pressed close around her, encouraging her to go on. The maid just smiled and told everyone to gather close for terrifying tale of terror. Dean made a sound of disgust before walking off, his brother and Buffy following as the maid continued the tale of the ghost Leticia Gore.

They ended up running into Becky, who exclaimed, “Oooh, the LARPing’s started!” and proceeded to hand them sheets of paper, minus one for Buffy. Becky seemed to have come to the conclusion that the Slayer was a rival for Sam’s affections and had decided to ignore her existence. Buffy shrugged in a “whatever” gesture as Becky continued to talk, “So this is supposed to be a sheet from your dad’s journal. The objective is to hunt down the ghost. First person to find the bones wins a $50 gift card to Sizzlers!” As soon as the fangirl was out of sight the sheets promptly went into the trash.

Downstairs they found another group of fake Sam and Deans in suits surrounding the “hotel manager,” who was really the convention host, flashing fake FBI badges. “Yes Agents Lennon and McCartney, the hotel is indeed haunted,” he said. “Before this was a hotel it was an orphanage run by Leticia Gore, who went insane one hundred years ago this very night! She butchered four little boys before killing herself. Now the ghosts of the boys are trapped here and Leticia Gore continues to punish them this very day.”

“Well, that’s just about all the community theater I can take,” Dean quipped.

“Seriously, this cannot get any weirder,” Sam commented.

At that moment a portly Dean and nerdy Sam walk up and start recreating their favorite brotherly moments from the books. Buffy rolls her eyes at Sam who stands aghast. “You totally just jinxed us,” she told him.

“I need a drink,” Dean concluded and so they headed back to the hotel bar.

Dean promptly sat down at the bar, next to a brunette haired woman in an old fashioned dress who was busily texting on her cell phone, and ordered a shot of whiskey. Buffy and Sam found a table instead; Sam ordered a fruity mixer and Buffy just got water. “There was this batch of cursed beer that turned me into a cave girl for a time, since then I stay away from alcohol,” she explained. The whole “Beer bad, boy smell nice,” episode was still a source of embarrassment to the blonde.

Sam raised his eyebrows in amusement. “Can’t say that’s one I’ve encountered before. Most curses are more drowning in your own blood types.”

That was what began a conversation about the various spells and curses they’d encountered in their careers with the supernatural. At the bar, Dean attempted to hit on the texting woman who turned out to be an amateur actress playing the part of Leticia Gore for the convention hunt. “I’ve heard the exact same line from a bunch of guys wearing MacGyver jackets,” she told him, her gaze softening as she actually looks at Dean, “but you seem different.”

“How so?” he asked, turning on the charm.

“Well, for one thing, you don’t seem scared of women.”

Dean’s flirtation was cut off by a cut up, bleeding geeky Sam wannabe coming into the bar yelling that there’s a real live dead ghost upstairs. “It wasn’t real,” the boy’s partner, dressed as Dean, said, trying to calm him down.

“Fake ghosts don’t assault you!” the fake Sam shouted back.

The real Dean excused himself to the actress and headed over to the bleeding boy. “What did you see?” he asked.

“You jerk!” The fake Sam snarled. “This wasn’t part of the game! I’m leaving and you should too!” He rushed off, his friend trailing behind, still trying to placate him.

“I don’t think he was acting,” Sam said as Buffy and he join Dean.

“Looks like there’s a case after all,” Dean piped in, looking thrilled at the prospect of an actual hunt.

“Told you, you jinxed us,” was Buffy’s mumbled reply.

They ended up bribing the real hotel manager into telling them the real story of Leticia Gore. It turned out that current night really was the anniversary of the gruesome murders, and that she had killed the kids in the attic. Sam and Dean promptly headed up to the attic, Buffy starting to follow until she notices them being tailed by the portly faux Dean and nerdy Sam. She scared them away, with some effort, and found herself left behind by the Winchesters.

Frowning at their thoughtlessness she trailed up the stairs and through a hall that wasn’t as empty as it first appeared. The hairs on her arm stand up and shivers run down her spine as a ghostly little boy flickers into view. “Help us! Miss Gore won’t let us have any fun!” the spirit pleaded, pointing at a painting at the end of the hallway before vanishing.

“ _Crap, I hate ghosts! I can’t fight them, just disperse them for a time with an iron weapon_ ,” Buffy mentally grumbled.

“ **Yes, you can** ,” Michael told her.

“ _How_?”

“ **My Grace has already begun to strengthen the piece you carry, some angelic abilities are now within your capability**.”

That Buffy found totally cool. She’d long ago accepted her loss of normality so any fringe benefits were always nice. “ _So what can I do now_?”

 **“One of the most basic techniques an angel learns is to manifest a weapon made of their Grace, because despite whatever their function may normally be, ultimately we’re all Soldiers of God and as such expected to be able to fight**.”

“ _What kind of weapon_?” Her mental self rubbed her hands gleefully at the thought of a new toy.

“ **That depends on the angel, a manifestation of Grace like that fits the personality and station of the angel. So we’ll have to see, now follow these steps—”**

Michael mentally guided her through the process of reaching deep into her soul for the energy she’d carried since she was fifteen. Now she knew it was the Grace of a fallen angel; it had changed since Michael took up residence in her body. It felt lighter and stronger and came forth easily at her call. Brilliant light flared briefly and when it died down Buffy held a sword in her hands. It was shaped like a broadsword, double edged and cross shaped hilt, made of a strange crystalline metal that glowed and rippled iridescently. “Oooh, shiny,” she purred out loud, taking experimental swings with her new sword.

“ **You’ll find your Grace sword will be effective against ghosts, demons, and most other supernatural beings, even lesser angels. Though I’d prefer you not to kill any of my siblings if it can be avoided.** ”

“I think he needs a name,” Buffy decided. Her face lit up. “Oh, I know, I’ll call him Mr. Shiny.”

“You HAVE got to be joking,” said Dean.

She’d been so focused on her sword she didn’t notice Sam and Dean’s arrival. “How long have you been there?”

“About the same time you pulled the rabbit out of the hat trick and what’s with that anyway?”

Buffy explained to them, mentioning the ghost kid. “We had our own encounter with the lost boys—this one scalped,” Dean said, while Sam meandered over to the painting the ghost boy had pointed at.

Frowning, Sam pulls the painting off the wall and flips it over to remove the backing. “Huh,” he grunts.

 

“Find something?” Buffy asks.

“A map of the grounds, when this place was an orphanage and it includes the location of a cemetery.”

“Yahtzee,” cheered Dean.

“Only if it’s real and not part of the convention,” Buffy added.

Dean’s shoulders slump. “Research?” he asked unhappily.

“Research,” Sam confirmed.

 

So they end up back in the lobby bar, Sam talking on his cell phone with the county historical society while Dean tries to talk Buffy into changing her sword’s name. “But it goes with my stake, Mr. Pointy, and my late stuffed pig, Mr. Gordo,” was her argument.

Across the way are Becky and Chuck. The staring Sam fangirl licks her palm and blows Sam a kiss which prompts Chuck to give a crushed look. Disturbed expression on his face, Sam politely waved back as he ends his call.

“Leticia Gore was buried in a cemetery on the property, but they didn’t know its location. Oh and Dean, the scalped kid we encountered—he was her son,” Sam informed them.

A dark look passed over the elder Winchester’s face. “I’m so going to deep fry her bones, extra crispy,” Dean promises.

 

The walk to the cemetery is short and soon they’re staring dispassionately down at Leticia Gore’s headstone. Dean and Sam pulled out shovels and immediately start digging while Buffy watched. “You could help, princess,” Dean grunted out.

“Nah, I need to be ready to take on Casper if she shows before you finish salting and burning her bones,” Buffy explained, holding Mr. Shiny.

Her caution pays off as the vicious female spirit attacks as soon as the brothers reach her coffin. As she appears, Buffy vaguely notices the close resemblance of the spirit and actress the convention hired to play her. Since Buffy is the closest Leticia attacks her first, lunging with arms out in an attempt to choke the Slayer. Buffy dodges, nicking Leticia on the arm with Mr. Shiny. The ghost shrieked in surprise and drew back. Where the sword had made contact was a cut dripping with black ectoplasm that served as the spirits blood. Leticia gingerly touches the wound in shock; she probably hadn’t truly been hurt since she died. She stared at her pale fingers as they came away stained in black, her face morphs into outrage and Buffy knew she was going to make a counterattack but then Leticia Gore lets out one last shriek of pain and explodes into ash and sulphur as her earthly remains are burned are away.

Buffy’s letting out a breath of relief when a little boy’s voice cried out, “Mommy, why did you make Mommy go away?” In a blink there is a tear strewn little boy with a scalp wound standing at the foot of Leticia Gore’s grave.

“Because she hurt you,” Dean explained.

Buffy realizes this must be Leticia Gore’s son. The boy shook his head, “Mommy never hurt me.”

“Then who did?” Sam asked.

The boy looks behind himself fearfully and disappears just as three more creepy boys make the scene, one of whom Buffy recognized from the hotel hallway. The one she recognized, says, “Miss Gore wouldn’t let us have any fun, but now Miss Gore is gone…” The boys all smile at once in a very disturbing way, “…and now we can have all kinds of fun.”

They advance forward but Buffy just looks calm, even though she can feel Sam and Dean tense up behind her. She holds up her sword and says with a grin on her face, “Mine’s bigger.”

She lunges, catching the middle boy in the chest in a killing blow, the other two scattering away from her in surprise. The boy she stabbed explodes into sulphur and ash much like the late Miss Gore did. “You mean you could have done that the whole time instead of us having to dig up a grave,” was Dean’s reaction.

The two remaining boys gave her deadly glares. “You're no fun, but we’ve got lots of playmates,” one of them informed before they both disappeared.

“They’re going to attack the convention,” Sam swiftly concludes, causing Dean to swear.

Options and plans fly through Buffy’s head at lightspeed. “I’m the fastest, I’ll run back and try to destroy them but you two need to salt and burn the bodies just in case I can’t kill them, again, before they hurt anyone,” she told them and sprinted off before either could reply.

In the distance, she heard Dean ask his brother, “Please, tell me you remember their names.”

She runs at her top speed, which shortened the time the trek takes considerably. She bangs open the doors, earning a reproving glare from the hotel manager. Besides the stiff neck man, that is sitting at the front desk, and the bartender wiping down the bar the lobby is empty. “Where is everyone?” she demanded.

“In the ballroom,” the man replied snidely and promptly ignores her.

“Ass,” she thinks, obviously the man was such a stick in the mud that the homicidal boy wouldn’t bother with him, no they’d go where they were sure to make the biggest impact.

 

Adrenaline surges as she makes a quick trek to the center of the “Supernatural” convention. The place is packed full of people, Chuck is on stage, stuttering his way through some panel. She spots the two ghost boys; one is up front and it looks like Becky is his target, the other is closer and approaching an unaware Sam look-a-like. Knowing she won’t reach both in time, Buffy shouts out and points, “Chuck, a ghost is targeting Becky!”

The Prophet spots the homicidal spirit and realizes he’s not a fake. While Buffy attacked the closer boy, Chuck snatched up the iron microphone stand and brandished it like a stave before jumping off the stage and running like mad to Becky.

The fangirl’s eyes are wide with fear as she understands the danger she is in as the little boy creeps closer, blade in hand. She’s frozen in fright and can’t bring herself to flee and of course the rest of the crowd thinks it’s a show and don’t help her. Then like a knight in shining armor, Chuck comes riding in, weapon brandished and swings at the ghost. The iron immediately forces the ghost to temporary disappear, so that by the time he manages to make himself corporal Buffy has finished off her psycho kid and made her way up front. Not that Becky really notices, she’s too busy staring at Chuck with a look in her eyes he’d began to lose hope of ever seeing directed his way: desire.

 

As the ghost reforms he realizes his partner in terror is gone and that he’s in danger of extermination himself. The homicidal maniac spirit turns to flee but ends up flaming out as Sam and Dean finally salt and burn his mortal remains. The audience erupts into applause at what they deem awesome special effects. Chuck weakly take a bow, “Thank you.”

“You saved me,” Becky says, “That ghost would have-but then you came-that was so cool.” Randomly she lets out one of her earsplitting squeals and launches herself at Chuck, locking lips in a very enthusiastic kiss. Whistles and hoots echoed around them.

“Well, I guess Sam is off the hook.”

They stood outside the quaint hotel that had the dubious honor of playing the host to the first “Supernatural” convention. Becky is trying tactically as possible-for her-to “break up” with Sam. “Despite our undeniable chemistry, like a monkey on the sun, it was too hot to live. I’m with Chuck now,” she grabed the Prophet’s hand, “My yin to his proud yang, and well, the heart wants what the heart wants. Will you be alright?”

Sam’s face is serious, which isn’t easy to maintain with his brother and Buffy snickering away softly behind him, and he makes a deep sigh. “I don’t know; I’ll just have to go living.”

Becky smiled, “You got the perfect girl right there. I’m not usually into hetero romance but you are and since she’s Michael’s vessel and so is Dean, its close enough and-mph” Chuck covered her mouth with his hand before she can say anything more that just might make the hunters shoot her. There are disturbed looks on their faces Buffy just says, “That’s our clue to leave,” and marched the brothers off to their vehicle.

“Wait,” Becky cried, letting go of her grip on Chuck. All three let out groans as they face the fangirl like they would a firing squad. “I almost forgot, you’re looking for the Colt right? It said so in one of Chuck’s manuscripts. Well, in Chapter 33 of ‘Dream a Little Dream of Me’ that girl Bella stole the Colt and said she gave it to Lilith?” Dean gaves her an “I know this already look. “You know she lied, right?”

“What?” Dean blurted out.

Becky smiled again. “Didn’t you read the books? There’s this scene where Bella gives the Colt to a demon named Crowley, Lilith’s right hand man and also her lover, I think.” Buffy is mentally pulling up the scene from her archangel download of the series. Though Buffy is most defiantly not a fan of guns, the Colt seemed like a very effective weapon against the supernatural.

Sam gave Chuck, who’d followed Becky a reproving glare. “You couldn’t have told us sooner?”

Chuck shrugged sheepishly. “I didn’t remember; I’m not as big of fan of the series as she is.”

“Becky, tell us everything,” Sam said.

The grin she gave him could have blinded someone.

They make it back to the Impala without any interruptions; Dean has no problem telling his baby apart from what he snidely refers to as imitation junkers. There Dean receives a voice mail from Castiel, saying he has news they need to know. “We should regroup at Bobby’s,” Dean says. The other two agree and they drive off leaving the “Supernatural” convention far, far behind.


	9. Strategizing

Michael it seems was impatient to find out Castiel’s news because as soon as the Impala was out of pedestrians’ and other vehicle’s drivers views, the archangel switched control with Buffy and mojo-ed them to Bobby Singer’s salvage yard, car and all. Dean slammed on the breaks to keep from running into a clunker and cursed. “A little warning would have been nice!”

“You just would have argued about wanting to actually drive the entire way, this way was more expedient,” Michael said, shrugging in an uncaring manner.

Dean glowers at her and opens his mouth to give his repeated statement that angels are dicks, or were in Castiel’s case and Anna being an exception since she spent time as a human, but Sam was wise enough to cut him off with a, “We’re here now, so just drop it.” Dean grunts unhappily and gets out of the car, heading up to the house without a word. Sam sighs and follows his brother, leaving Michael to bring up the rear.

Whatever Dean was expecting when he walked into Bobby’s house was certainly not the scene playing out in front of him. Gabriel had apparently decided to share his love of sweets, for he had conjured a buffet of delectable desserts: cakes, pudding, candies, delicious smelling pies, and other miscellaneous treats. Gabriel was cajoling a reluctant Castiel into take a bite out of the éclair he held in his hand. The trench coat wearing angel had mysteriously obtained a black eye; it must have happened recently since it had yet to heal. Bobby had eschewed himself into a corner surrounded by open books as he glowered and mattered lowly under his breath about, “ an idjit archangel turning a man’s home into a sweet shop.” The thing that surprised him the most was the pale, red-haired angel nestled into an overstuffed chair that Gabriel must have also conjured, sipping delicately at a cup of hot chocolate.

“Anna,” Dean breathed. He hadn’t seen the rebellious angel since before Lucifer’s release.

Her eyes lit up and a warm smile graced her face. “Hello, Dean,” she said, setting aside her cup and standing up. She started towards him only to have Michael block her way.

“Anael,” she said coolly, eyes narrowed and fists clenched. “Give me one reason I shouldn’t smite you here and now.”

The red-haired angel’s eyes widened and she took a fearful step backwards. “Michael,” she squeaked.

“Whoa, Anna’s on our side,” Dean protested loudly.

“She broke our most sacred rules by abandoning her post and falling for her own selfish reasons,” Michael said in a monotone voice.

“Mikey,” Gabriel drawled, throwing a pastry free arm abound his older sister. “We’ve got enough problems without killing off potential allies.” He then lowers his voice and says in Enochian, “She’s more than paid the price for her actions.” The trickster mentally sent Michael a copy of the re-education Anna had gone through that he had picked up when he’d given her a mental update on all that had gone on during her imprisonment in Heaven.

Since Michael had first confronted Anna, Buffy had done her best to make the archangel see reason. “ _Another angel on humanities side would useful, as they’re kinda in short abundance_.”

“Michael, Joshua himself helped her out,” Gabriel pointed out as he noticed the other archangel’s opinion wavering.

“Fine,” Michael grunted, shaking off Gabriel. It was the fact that Joshua had interfered that swayed her. Heaven’s gardener would never perform an act that their Father wouldn’t approve of. “I’ll give her a chance to prove herself.”

There was sighs of relief from everyone as they relaxed. Gabriel shook his head. “You need to lighten up, Mikey. I know it’s been a while, but I’m sure that together you, the bodacious blonde vessel, and I could find a way to help you relax.” He waggled his eyes suggestively and leered.

_“Did—did he just proposition us?”_

**“Yes.”**

_“Um—ew.”_

**“It is not what you are thinking. Angels call each other siblings but it is more in a sense of camaraderie and doesn’t hold the same social rules that apply to human blood siblings.”**

“ _So relationships between angels are common?”_

**“It is among those of similar ranks.”**

The discussion brought a question to Buffy’s mind. _“Did you ever have someone special?”_

Michael didn’t answer her, but from the hurt bittersweet feelings that hit her she could guess. _“It was Lucifer, wasn’t it?”_ After she reminded herself the angels really were genderless, then the fallen archangel was the only one she could figure Michael would have been with, considering they were the first angels created.

 **“Yes.”** The sorrow and emotion in that one word made it very clear for Buffy to drop the subject, which she gladly did.

In answer to Gabriel’s comment, Michael gifted him with an icy glare that could have frozen magma, causing the trickster to pale. “Yeah, never mind, sorry, moving on—Cass why don’t you tell ‘em what Joshua said,” Gabriel babbled, changing the subject in an effort not to get the ever loving crap beat out of him by his beloved older sister.

It was evident on everyone’s faces that they were grateful for the new topic as Castiel gave his report on everything that had occurred while he was in Heaven. However the mood went rapidly downward as God’s message-via Joshua-was delivered. Dean shook his head and muttered something low about dead beat dads, while Sam gave a kicked puppy looked. Surprisingly Michael was the least upset about God’s “hands off” stance. “This is good,” she said after a moment of contemplation.

“I’d like to know your definition of good,” grumbled Bobby over the protests and “how is that good?” from the others.

“ _You might want to clarify your statement_ ,” Buffy inputted.

“I don’t mean that it is good that He will not interfere, but the underlining message; which is that we have been granted the freedom to solve our own problems our own way. That our plan to put Lucifer back in the Cage instead of finishing the Apocalypse as it has been written can proceed without Him ordering otherwise,” Michael explained.

“Still would have preferred a magic wave of His hand and everything back the way it should be,” Dean mumbled.

“Trust me on this, Deano, when Dad interferes with the big stuff it doesn’t always turn out positive for the little guy,” Gabriel said.

“So what now?” asked Anna, setting back into the plush chair Gabriel had conjured for her.

“We get the Colt,” Dean said. “According to Chuck a demon by the name of Crowley has it.”

“I thought we dropped the gank Lucifer plan,” Sam put in.

“You do know it doesn’t work against archangels, right?” Gabriel informed.

“I do now,” was Dean’s unhappy reply. He eyed Castiel. “Would have been nice to know earlier.”

“I did not know, either,” Castiel said, shrugging.

“Regardless of its effectiveness against Lucifer, it would be a valuable tool against his servants,” Michael decided. “We should locate this Crowley at once.”

“Or we could summon him,” Gabriel suggested. “I know how.”

To summon a specific demon was a unique ritual that required the summoner to have either met the demon in question or have an item or symbol with a connection to the demon, instead of a general summon that any of the lower rank members of Hell’s legion might answer. “Please tell me you haven’t been associating with this demon while on Earth,” Michael said, distaste at the thought evident in her voice.

“Not really. Our paths have crossed a couple of time; to his regret. Crowley is the King of the Crossroads demons and every time we’ve met is because the targets of some of my more fatal tricks happened to be in the middle of negotiating contracts with Crowley.” He shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal. “Don’t know that the fuss was about, they ended up going to Hell anyway…well, except one,” Gabriel explained with no remorse for his past actions evident.

Dean shook his head at the trickster archangel’s callousness. “You’re a real piece of work, you know that?”

“Thank you,” Gabriel piped up cheerfully.

“So Crowley is most likely to attack you on sight,” Anna said, preventing Dean from getting into a morality argument with Gabriel. “Might make it a little hard to get him to give us the Colt.”

“So we stick him in a Devil’s trap and make the Colt a condition of his release,” Bobby suggested, his tone holding an unsaid “duh, stupid”.

“Who will take part in the plan?” Castiel questioned. “It would not be wise for Michael to reveal herself.”

Said archangel gave a nod of agreement. “I concur and neither should Buffy. Though I do not doubt I could hide my presence from the demon, Buffy’s is very distinctive and an upper level demon such as Crowley would realize what she is and I do not want the news of a Slayer teaming up with the Winchesters to spread yet.”

“Speaking of Slayers, why don’t we get this Watcher’s Council she mentioned to help us out? I know they’re probably busy with the outbreak of monsters and all but surely the could spare a few people,” said Sam, flipping the topic.

“ _No way, I don’t want them involved_ ,” was Buffy’s opinion.

Michael agreed, but for his own reasons. “That would be unwise, involving the Council would make them a threat in Lucifer’s eyes, albeit a small one, he would destroy them utterly instead of his current stance of regarding them as a minor irritant not worthy of his attention and ignoring them,” she said.

“Your vessel is a Slayer; won’t Lucifer think the Council is already involved?” Bobby pointed out.

“Which is precisely why neither Buffy nor I can attend the demon summoning. Any of Lucifer’s other servants we encounter must be killed off quickly to not alert him.”

“Mikey, not to be the pessimist or anything,” Gabriel interjected. “But all it takes is one getting away to get a lot of people killed.”

“Perhaps a compromise,” Anna suggested, “Make one or two people connected with the Watchers aware of what is going on so they can quietly put contingencies into place and can be warned if Lucifer ever targets the Watchers.”

Two people came to Buffy’s mind that she knew could be trusted to keep quiet and was still on speaking terms with: her mentor and second Watcher, Rupert Giles, and her little sister Dawn. As Head of the Watchers Council, Giles had both the access and capability of putting any contingency plans discreetly in place with no one else aware of the reasons for it, just another worst case scenario plan—the council had dozens of those already. The Watcher hadn’t approved of her forced vacation by Willow and Xander but held been so busy with tracking down surviving Watchers and reforming the Council—with some modifications—that Buffy had already been on the outside looking in before he knew it.

It was Kennedy, Willow’s haughty girlfriend, who instigated the whole thing. The majority of the survivors of the battle with the First set up shop in Cleveland—once a weak Hellmouth but with the closing of Sunnydale’s Hellmouth it had gained considerable strength. There Kennedy had started to take over, using her relationship with Willow to poison the witch against her friend. Xander, numb with the loss of Anya and his hometown, had followed his childhood friend’s lead. The former Potentials, now fully activated Slayers, which had survived Sunnydale, had been few in number. Their losses under Buffy’s leadership had been one of Kennedy’s major points in reasons for putting Buffy out to pasture. Faith hadn’t stuck around long, leaving before she did something that wound up landing her in jail again. So Buffy lost her strongest ally-though Dawn did try to defend her sister-and was driven away a few weeks after. Giles, when he found out, offered her a place in England at the Watcher Headquarters which she turned down. See at that point Buffy had started thinking about Dawn and her life, the once upon a time glowing green multi-dimensional Key turned sister had yet to finish high school. Buffy thought with the emotional and physical upheavals of the past few years, settling down in a town without a Supernatural presence at least until Dawn graduated would be good, so they did—Giles helped with the financial end of things. So Dawn finished up high school and got into Oxford on scholarship and Buffy quickly got bored of retirement. Michael showed up as she was considering taking Giles up on his offer.

A pang of guilt hit her as Buffy remembered she had left her house without much notice, just a note with a flimsy explanation, Dawn and Giles deserved better than that. Yes, she would tell them.

Michael, who had been following her thought process, told the group, “There are two Buffy trusts with the truth. We’ll be informing them while the summoning takes place.”

“Right, let’s just get this over with,” said Dean.


	10. Dawn

Dawn lived by herself in an apartment (or flat considering it was Great Britain) just outside of the Oxford campus. The one bedroom/one bath unit was a virtual Fort Knox of protective warding. There wasn’t a ward against evil known to man and a few other species that wasn’t placed about the apartment or in some cases the entire building. However, not one of those wards was meant to bar a heavenly being and so Michael slipped through easily, landing in Dawn’s living room without warning.

The young brown haired woman had been in the middle of studying when her sister had appeared suddenly. Dawn yelped and scrambled to her feet in a rush, dropping the book she’d been holding onto the floor. Her face morphed into a reproving glare as she realized just who had appeared before her. “What the Hell, Buffy, I don’t hear from you in a few days and then you pop in like—” Dawn trailed off as she got a good look at the form in front of her. Eyes narrowed and her body tensed up as she growled out, “You’re not my sister.”

“ **She knows you very well to be able to tell just by looking,”** Michael commented.

“ _She does, so you better start talking or switch control with me before she triggers the spell to alert the Watchers HQ that she’s in danger._ ”

“True, I am not your sister,” Michael admitted, before pressing a hand to her chest. “But she is here with me.” At the darkening look on Dawn’s face she hastened to add, “I am no spirit or demon to squatter and possess without permission and you well know neither could cross the wards of this place; I am the Archangel Michael, General of the Heavenly Host—” Dawn’s disbelieving snort cut her off.

“Angel’s haven’t been recorded on Earth since Jesus’ Resurrection,” the younger Summers sister said, matter-of-factly.

“We haven’t walked the Earth in human vessels since then,” Michael gently corrected, “but we have been around.”

Lips pressed together in a grim line as eyes narrowed and arms crossed in a dubious stance. Michael sighed, “Fine, talk to your sister and know I tell the truth,” and switched control with Buffy quickly.

Buffy blinked in surprise at the speed of the switch then rolled her eyes as she felt Michael mentally curl up in her mind and pout about not being believed. “Congrats Dawnie, you hurt an archangel’s feelings,” she told her sister.

Her stance and tone of voice assured Dawn that it was indeed her sister really speaking, letting the brunette visibly relax though her face remained stern. “Explain,” she demanded.

So Buffy did, giving her sister a good and detailed summary on everything involving the Winchesters, the current Apocalypse, and how she ended up sharing a body with an archangel. By the time she was finished Dawn was shaking her head and tisking. “Seriously Buffy, you call me danger prone,” she gave a wry smile, “Well at least you’ve got an archangel on your side, not much can beat that. So what is it like being the vessel to such a powerful being?”

“Crowded,” is Buffy’s prompt answer, “Full to the brim with power and radiance and a thousand other similar words.”

Michael mentally rolls his eyes at her description. “ **My true form is a multi dimensional wavelength of celestial intent stuffed inside a meat suit along with a human soul and a piece of a fallen angel, of course it’s crowded**.”

“ _Well, I see you’ve stopped pouting_ ,” Buffy replied dryly.

**“I did not pout.”**

_“Yeah, sure-you betcha.”_

“Kay, then,” Dawn says, clapping her hands together and moving the conversation along since her sisterly instincts were telling her that Buffy was just about finished with “share time,” well that and the frown on her face that appeared during her internal conversation. “Let’s go talk to Giles, I can’t wait to see his face when he finds out what’s going on. Better call him first, to make sure he’s alone and give him a heads up so he doesn’t have a heart attack when we show up.”

“ **Before we leave, there are some angelic wards I wish to place around your sister’s apartment that will prevent any angels from crossing the premises without permission like we did** ,” Michael tells Buffy.

“ _Thank you_ ,” Buffy replies, grateful the archangel cares about the youngest Summer’s safety. _“How long do you think it will take you?”_

**“Done properly without making any noticeable power spikes—a few hours.”**

_“I’ll let you get on that then.”_ She turned her attention back to her sister. “Tell Giles we’ll meet in him in his office, alone, in four hours. Mikey has some wards he wants to add to your security perimeter before we go.”

“Cool, thanks Michael. I’ll just go make that call now.” Dawn shuffled off.

 _“That’s your cue.”_ Buffy said and switches control back over to the archangel.

Michael straightens her vessel from the casual stance Buffy had taken when she was in control. **“First we will need some items.”**


	11. The British Invasion

Gabriel left soon after transferring the knowledge to Castiel on how to summon the demon Crowley. The archangel was going to check back with some of his contacts while the summoning went on. So a few smelly herbs, some bloodletting, and a bunch of Latin later, a rather unconcerned demon Crowley stood in the middle of a Devil’s Trap in the living room of Bobby Singer.

The demon’s meat suit was a balding middle-aged gentlemen dressed in a well tailored black suit with crimson tie. He eyed his audience with a nonchalant air. “Well if it isn’t the Hardy boys,” Crowley said with a British accent, “and their pet angel—oh, wait its two angels now.” He gave Anna an appreciative look which she returned with one of disgust. He shrugged, unbothered with her rejection, and continued talking. “Let me guess, you called because you heard I had this,” he pulled out a familiar gun from his suit jacket. He held the gun admiringly up to the light. “Wonderful piece of work this; you know I could have buried this six feet under somewhere no one would find it, instead of spreading rumors about it,” he remarked.

Sam exchanged a glance with his brother before asking the demon, “Why would you do that?”

“I wanted you to find me, because I’m going to give you the Colt on the condition that you use it on Lucifer.”

There were confused glances all around. “Why would you seek your Master’s death?” Castiel asked for the group.

“Lucifer is an angel famed for his hatred of humanity, if he hates humans so much, what must he think of my kind. The way I see it, if the devil wins then demons are next on his hit list.”

“But he created you, why would he destroy you?” Sam questioned.

Crowley gave a casual shrug. “To him we’re nothing more than servants, cannon fodder. So what do you say, ready to ice the devil?” He flipped the Colt over and waved it at Dean, handle first, tempting him to take it.

The eldest Winchester brother shuffled forward cautiously edging the perimeter of the Devil’s Trap, before reaching out and snatching the Colt from the demon’s hand and stepping back.

“My sources tell me that Lucifer has an appointment in Carthage, Missouri on Thursday, he’s going to raise the horseman Death.” Crowley continues, “That would be the best time to strike.”

Anna’s brow furrowed in thought at the news of the horseman, while Castiel gave the demon a glare that said he’d like nothing more than to smite Crowley where he stood.

“There’s just one problem,” Sam began as Dean lifted the Colt and aimed it at the demon, “the Colt doesn’t work on archangels.” Dean pulls the trigger only for there to be nothing more than the click of an empty gun.

Crowley raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t really think I would hand you a loaded gun that can kill me, now did you?” he mocked. From out of another jacket pocket he pulled a case of bullets. “I was going to use these to buy my freedom.”

“Not much of a bargaining chip when we’ve got two angels that can smite your ass without damaging the bullets ,” Dean commented, giving a malicious grin, “Especially, since you were going to lead us into a trap. Cass if you will?”

The stoic male angel stepped forward, prompting Crowley to hold up his hand in a surrender position. “It isn’t a trap, I swear to you I had no idea the Colt won’t work,” the demon protested, his skin pale with fear. “Surely we can come to some kind of bargain, some piece of information you want.”

Anna grabbed Castiel’s arm to halt him, before addressing the self proclaimed King-of-the-Crossroads’ demons, “Tell us the location of the Four Horsemen.”

“I don’t know,” When Anna’s hand drops, releasing her brother’s arm he hastens to add, “But I know the demon that does; he’s like their personal assistant, makes itineraries and all that.”

Castiel stops and Crowley’s body releases the tension that had been caused by his fear, “Where can we find this demon?” Sam asked.

“Nah-uh, not until the angels give me their most solemn oaths that I will be allowed to leave this abode, unharmed,” Crowley said.

It was clear that everyone else in the room was unhappy about the condition, but by silent, unanimous decision they would let the demon go, the information he had was by far worth more than the death of a single demon—King of the Crossroads or not.

So Anna and Castiel reluctantly made a promise by their Father and Grace that Crowley would be allowed to leave, unharmed, in exchanged for a certain piece of information—meaning they would have to also have to stop anyone else who might prevent his release, that way the Winchesters and Bobby Singer couldn’t try to take him out after he’d given them the info.

Once the oaths were given, Crowley upheld his end of the bargain. “The demon you want is the CEO of Niveus Pharmaceuticals, now let me go.”

With a letter opener, Bobby scratched a line through the Devil’s Trap, wanting the demon gone from his home. Crowley stepped out of the elaborate circle, looking as if he hadn’t nearly been killed. “Oh, by the way,” he addressed Sam, “You’re very familiar with this particular demon, goes by the name Brady. Well, tootles.” Then he was gone, leaving a rapidly paling Sam behind.

Glances were exchanged and Bobby is the one who asks, “Brady?”

“H-he, was a friend at Stanford.” Sam clenched his hands into fists. “Brady introduced me to Jess.”

His voice is a broken cacophony of rage and despair. Once again the truth had been revealed on just how much of Sam’s life has been manipulated by Hell.

“We’ll get him,” Dean promised, wanting to hug his brother but too conscientious to have a chick flick moment in front of witnesses.

The moment was broken by Gabriel flying into the living room, sporting a shit-eating grin which he rapidly lost as he noticed the atmosphere. “So what did I miss?”

 

Michael and Dawn, the latter now sporting carved Enochian sigils on her ribs, appeared in the office of Rupert Giles at the scheduled time almost leaving said man gaping in surprise. He’d known that they would be teleporting in some way, but that they’d been able to completely by pass the security wards without even a hint of their presence was startling to the distinguished silver and brown haired gentlemen.

Dawn gave a great smile and said, “Giles, I’d like you to meet Michael the Archangel.”

She held her hands out in a “ta-da” motion, like she’d just presented an impressive trick. Michael just stood at attention like the soldier she was, it was so un-Buffy-like that Giles had an easy time believing Dawn no matter what the angel’s form looked like.

“Oh, dear,” Giles said, before promptly removing his glasses and started cleaning them.

Once the Head of the Watcher’s Council had calmed down and gotten over his awe of being in the presence of such a Holy person, Michael explained her purpose.

Giles was, of course, happy to help. “Surely there is more we can do,” he asked.

 “Just be ready to move if the time comes,” Michael replied. “If my team should fall, you may well be humanities last line of defense, which won’t be possible if Lucifer finds an excuse to wipe you out first.”

If Michael fell so did Buffy, came the sobering thought to Giles. His shoulders slumped slightly and he gave a reluctant nod of acceptance to Michael before asking, “May I speak with her, before you depart?”

“Of course,” she said and switched control with her host.

“Hey, Watcher-mine,” Buffy greeted, giving the man a fond smile.

Giles returned her look with one of fatherly worry. “You both make me proud and worried with the burden you have taken on,” he told her.

“But you’d have it no other way,” she said and gave the father-of-her-heart a hug.

“Aww,” Dawn said, “Group hug!” and joined in the family embrace.


	12. A Pale Rider

Buffy lingered in Giles’ office catching up with her sister and father figure until Michael pointed out that the summoning of the demon Crowley had most likely concluded and that they should find out what had happened.

“Alright, I’ve got to jet, Apocalypse to end and all that,” Buffy said, giving both a last hug.

“Good luck,” said Dawn.

“Be sure to let us know if there is anything we can help with,” added Giles.

The Slayer gave them a smile. “I will.” She once again switched control with Michael.

The archangel gave the two humans a respectful nod of farewell before flying off, her destination: Bobby Singer’s home.

The depression in the atmosphere was almost tangible, was Buffy’s thought as Michael and she appeared in the Hunter’s living room. It wasn’t hard to figure out where the bad vibes were coming from, Buffy could practically see a little thunder cloud hanging over the head of Sam Winchester. She sighed mentally, “ _Alright, what happened_?” Michael repeated her question, making it more into a command.

“We succeeded in retrieving the Colt from the demon Crowley,” Castiel reported.

 “And the only reason I didn’t smite the little turd is because he traded valuable info for his safety,” Anna added.

“The name of the Horseman’s P.A. –which just happened to be the guy to introduce Sam to his college girlfriend,” was Dean’s input. Sam’s aura darkened visibly which Dean noticed and shifted uncomfortably in his seat in response.

“Don’t forget about Satan’s summoning of Death on Thursday,” Bobby said from behind his desk where he was pouring over various open books.

Gabriel shook his head. “It’s not really a summoning as much as putting a leash on Death. The Horsemen, for all their bad rep are natural forces given form. War, Pestilence, and Famine are all happy to do Lucy’s dirty work, but Death is all about the natural order, hence why Lucifer requires a ritual to control him.”

“So is there any way we can get his ring before then?” Sam rasped out, pushing down his rage.

“May-bee,” Gabriel drawled. He gave the Winchester brothers a measuring glance. “Know any reapers? I don’t, I stay away from them, 'cause they’re such party killers.” Anna rolled her eyes at his pun and stepped on his right foot. Gabriel winced at her silent punishment for not being serious.

“There’s a Reaper I’ve met a couple of times, Tessa,” Dean admitted.

“That’s good; we can summon her and have her call her boss.”

“Don’t you need to be having an out of body experience of some kind to see a reaper?” asked Sam in a dry voice. The younger Winchester had come slightly out of his funk, suppressing his rage down, though everyone could tell that it could storm forth at anytime.

“Reapers usually can only be seen by those existing on the spirit plane or about to—mainly the dead and the dying,” Castiel confirmed. “They don’t usually interact with the physical world.”

“Though with four angels, manifesting a reaper onto the physical plane should be easy,” Anna said.

“So what do I need to do?” Dean asked with a little trepidation. The two times he’d seen Tessa had involved him leaving his mortal shell and wondering around as a spirit.

“Just remember the reaper, as detailed as possible, no need to speak out loud,” Michael told him. She moved in front of Dean, bringing up her hands to his face, the tips of her fingers gently touching his temples. Dean flinched, fighting the urge to back away. This close to the archangel, he could almost feel Grace radiating beneath skin, it was a bit intimidating to the hunter. “Relax,” Michael said.

Dean did his best to let go of his tension. He closed his eyes, picturing the reaper he knew as Tessa, her short dark hair and doe eyes, remembering when he first met her as his body laid in hospital bed, caught between life and death. She’d tried to get him to go with her, to accept his death and move onto the next plane of existence, but he’d been so stubborn, clinging to his life without really giving her a chance. A part of him wondered what would have happened if he’d taken her hand that first time, would his Dad have been able to keep Sam alive at Cold Oak, preventing the First Seal on Lucifer’s prison from breaking?

It was during that desperate scramble to keep the sixty-six seals intact that Dean had met Tessa for the second time. She’d tried to warn him, in her own way, about Heaven’s plans without overstepping her bounds as a neutral being.

“Dean?”

His eyes flew open as he heard her voice. Over the shoulder of Michael, he could see the female reaper standing questioningly in the middle of the quartet of angels. Tessa was dressed as usual in the traditional black of a reaper—in this case a pair of slacks, peasant tunic, and leather ankle boots.

An irritable expression crossed her face as she realized just what kind of beings she was surrounded by. She turned to Dean, “I’m behind as it is with all the extra deaths happening, what do you need?”

“We need to talk to your boss,” Dean told her.

She eyed the surrounding heavenly beings and shook her head. “No way, you know he’s neutral, he’s not going to help you,” she said, addressing Michael, whom had returned her hands to her side and faced the reaper.

“It’s us or being Lucifer’s bitch,” Gabriel snarked.

Tessa opened her mouth to retort but was cut off as a new voice rang out. “Thank you, Tessa.”

They all turned to face the speaker that had been able to sneak up on them all, even the archangels. He was an older gentlemen dressed in a black suit, with a sunken face—skin the ashen gray of a corpse, slicked back black hair, and thinning hairline. He was slightly leaning against a wall, clutching a black can with a ring clad hand. The morose aura that this man radiated and his sudden appearance led Buffy to quickly conclude that he was Death.

The Horseman gave a nod of acknowledgment to his subordinate. “Go back to your duties,” Death commanded.

Tessa gave a brief bow to him, before turning to Dean and giving him a wink.  “I’ll see you sooner or later, hopefully for your sakes, later.” She then evaporated into thin air as she did whatever reapers called their traveling method.

Gabriel let out a chuckle at Dean’s bewildered expression. “Your ways with women even works on lady reapers, she just laid claim on reaping your soul when you pass on.”

“That’s…creepy.”

“Is it so surprising?” Death asked, walking away from the wall. Dean suppressed a shudder as he fell under the pale rider’s stare. “You are the only soul to ever escape her, an anomaly. We don’t like anomalies.” Dean gulped and looked like he’d dearly wanted to hide behind someone else, but found himself frozen in place. “However, you and your brother are trying to keep the unnatural deaths down, so she knows to wait until it’s your real time.” He turned his attention away from Dean; the hunter visibly relaxed without the weight of his gaze pressing on him, and addressed Michael.

“I’m surprised to see you here.” He said in a voice that wasn’t so much condescending as “proud uncle” like.

The archangel gave no outward reply, but she knew that was his way of saying he approved of the decisions she’d made. Buffy sent a questioning thought on why he’d care. “ **God and Death are like brothers, both came into existence about the same time, neither is even sure who is older. So Death has a tendency to regard the angels as his nieces and nephews, the archangels more so since we’ve been around longer** ,” Michael explained.

“ _So Lucifer is the bratty nephew that always acts up?”_

“ **I suppose you could see it that way.** ”

With his free hand, Death removed the ring on his other hand. All eyes followed the square, pale stone adorned ring’s movements as Death held it up. “I know you need this, so here.” He dropped the ring into Michael’s hand.

Dean made a sound of disbelief, “Just like that?” Sam elbowed him to shut up while everyone else gave him disapproving looks.

Luckily Death wasn’t offended by Dean’s lack of trust. “Just like that,” he said. “I have no intention of being chained to a toddler having a temper tantrum, so the sooner you can put Lucifer back in his cage the better.”

Anna gave an amused smile and Gabriel let out a low chuckle at the description of the Devil as an unruly human child. “I don’t suppose you know where the last two rings are?” Bobby spoke up.

Death gave him a look that one would give another of lower class who had spoken out of turn, but did not answer the veteran hunter instead he gave Michael a silent nod of farewell and vanished similarly as Tessa did.

“The reaper, Tessa, did mention that Death is neutral,” Castiel reminded the humans when he saw the offended looks on their faces. “He has already helped as much as he is allowed.”

“Crossing the line of neutrality has very undesirable consequences,” Anna added. “Anyways, we’ve got a lead with that P.A.”

“Oh,” Gabriel piped in. “With everything going on I almost forgot to mention what my sources found.” He paused for dramatic effect. “I know where Famine is.”


	13. Two Fronts

The Archangel turned Trickster had the full attention of the room at that announcement. Not bothered at all with being in the spotlight Gabriel began to elaborate on his earlier statement. “Coyote—another Trickster for those who aren’t up on their mythology—told me about an encounter he had with a very miserable Cherub.”

Knowing how uneducated Dean was in angelic hierarchy, Castiel interjected an explanation, “Cherubs are a lower order of angels, better known as Cupids.”

Gabriel nodded. “Yes and they live up to their reputation of making humans falling in love—on Heaven’s orders to preserve vessel bloodlines. They have a tendency to be extremely happy and hyperactive so a miserable Cherub is pretty unusual. So anyway the Cherub told Coyote that all the couples he’d matched in a certain town had ended up killing each other in some kind of suicidal lovers pack kind of thing, one couple even ate each other to death.” He gave a shiver of disgust. “So he investigated and found more strange deaths in the area—like a man who had gotten the gastric bypass done and lost a ton of weight going on a Twinkie binge to the point that it killed him. So I followed up the lead and could feel Famine’s influence wafting over that town.”

“I thought Famine was about starvation,” Sam said. “Not overindulgence.”

“He is,” Anna answered. “He takes your deepest desire and makes you hunger for it so much that you just can’t stop.”

“So the couples that died?” Dean questioned.

“The Cherub made them love each other and then Famine twisted that love into a deadly need for the other,” Michael explained.

“Which is why it should be an angel to go after him, any human that gets near Famine will be affected,” Castiel stated.

Michael caught Dean giving Sam a discreet look before catching his eyes and giving a slight nod of understanding. If Sam Winchester came into contact with Famine, no doubt the Horseman would bring forth the hunter’s craving for demon blood and increase it to dangerous proportions, resulting in him being more vulnerable to Lucifer’s influence.

As circumspect as the silent exchange was, Sam still noticed it and came to the right conclusion of what it was about. An unhappy look at not being trusted to resist temptation appeared on his face briefly, but he side-stepped the issue by saying, “Fine, but I get to go after Brady then.”

Dean gave his brother a weary look. “Are you going to be able to hold off killing him until we have Pestilence’s location?”

Sam returned his look with one that was a combination of irritation and fury. “Hey, I had to ask,” Dean defended, holding up his hands in a surrender position.

Dean was right to question his brother’s ability to control his rage in the presence of a demon that had introduced him to the love of his life, Jessica, whom ended up burning on a ceiling just line the Winchester’s mother, Mary. None of them had any doubt that this Brady was at least partially responsible for Jessica’s death. That fury that Sam was feeling was one Buffy was very familiar with and she knew he wouldn’t settle for anything other than being on the team to go after Brady. That wouldn’t make Dan very happy but neither would Sam going after Famine. Buffy gave a mental sigh, if Dean had his way Sam would be enveloped in bubble wrap and stuffed in Bobby’s panic room until the end of time. They seriously needed to get over his codependence thing the two had going on, Dean especially. Michael, having followed Buffy’s thoughts, agreed, solidifying a plan in her mind. “Gabriel, you will for after Famine with Castiel, Anna, and Dean.”

“Michael, any human that nears Famine will be affected by his power,” Anna gently reminded her.

Dean looked both offended at the implication he couldn’t handle going after the Horseman and the fact that if he did go he would be separated from his brother. “Anael, while I may occupy a different body remember that Dean is still my true vessel and I can easily see his soul’s light. I have utter confidence that he can resist Famine’s power,” Michael said. She wasn’t lying, through the archangel’s eyes Buffy could see the bright, steady aura that was the soul of the Righteous Man radiating outward, not even forty years in Hell had been able to dim that glow. Anna gave a reluctant nod of acceptance, trusting that the Archangel knew what she was saying.

The unhappy look was still on Dean’s face and Buffy knew he would start arguing any minute so to avert an elongated discussion she sent a suggestion to Michael. The Archangel approached the elder Winchester brother and leaned in so she could whisper in his ear. “It is time to let Sam grow up,” she told him gently. “I promise to protect him with all my abilities.”

Dean gave her a steady stare as she moved back, judging her sincerity, before his shoulders slumped in defeat. Gabriel sensing his reluctant acceptance placed a hand on the hunter’s shoulder. “Catch you later,” the Messenger said, before taking off with Dean in tow, quickly followed by Anna and Castiel, leaving Michael/Buffy with Sam and Bobby. The older man gave the lone archangel a questioning gaze which was returned with a gesture for him to leave the room. Bobby quickly got the hint.

“Right, I’m sure you two can handle one measly demon, so I’m going to stay here. There are some hunters in the field that I want to check up on, see how they’re handling the increased work load,” Bobby said, shuffling off.

When they were alone Buffy took over to speak with Sam. “I understand what you are feeling, the rage and betrayal,” a bittersweet smile touched her lips, “trust me on that, but we need Brady alive long enough to get Pestilences location. Once we have that I promise he’ll be yours to do with what you want.”

Sam nodded, accepting her compromise. Satisfied that he wasn’t going to go off the handle and kill their only lead to the final Horseman, Buffy gave back control to Michael. “First we need to capture the demon,” she said.

“If he’s their CEO then the headquarters for Niveus Pharmaceuticals would be the best place to start,” Sam suggested.

“Then we will go there.” At Buffy’s prompt, she offered out her hand instead of just gripping whatever limb was nearest and taking off. Sam slid his hand in hers with only a brief pause. Her grip slightly tightened and then they were off, flying into the ether to their new destination.


	14. Finding Famine

The three angels and the hunter landed in a hospital morgue. “Why are we here?” Dean asked when he realized what the room was.

“Famine feeds on the souls of his victims about a day after they pass. We just need to find the latest victim, wait for one of Famine’s hench-demons to retrieve the soul and then follow him to his boss,” Gabriel explained.

Dean gave a mental snort. The archangel made it sound too easy, but things rarely went smoothly for the Winchesters. “Wait—Famine has henchmen?”

“Normally Famine’s influence is heavily regulated by the laws of Heaven and he isn’t permitted to feed on souls, so he’s currently very weak. Lucifer would have assigned demons to care for Famine, to help him gain strength so he can spread his influence over an even wider area,” Gabriel further explained.

As Gabriel was giving his clarification to Dean, Anna and Castiel had moved around the morgue. Anna was searching through a pile of papers while Castiel was staring in fascination at a tray of tools for an autopsy.

“Found him,” Anna stated, holding up a piece of paper riddled in barely comprehensible script. “Carl Forthill—overdosed on vicodin yesterday—slab eight.”

“So is his soul still in the body?” Dean asked.

Gabriel shrugged. “Someone will have to check,” Anna declared, her mouth twisting in a distasteful grimace. “Which will not be me.”

“Guess you’re up then, Cas,” Dean said, slapping the trench coat wearing angel’s shoulder.

Said angel just gave the hunter an unreadable glance before heading to the indicated body storage cubby. With a pull, the slab containing the body of Carl Forthill rolled out easily, revealing a pasty white corpse. Castiel stared down, dispassionately and rolled up his sleeves. Without comment, he plunged his hands into the corpse’s chest. They didn’t disturb the pale flesh at all as his hands were no longer on the physical plane, but searching for something insubstantial to mortals. When he found what he was looking for he retracted his arms. “The soul is still there,” Castiel informed.

“Good, then you stay here and wait for the demon,” Gabriel said before snapping his fingers and transforming his clothes into that of a doctor’s. “I’m going to see if any of the nurses want to play _Dr. Sexy_.”

Dean gave him a “are you kidding” look, while Anna was quick to grab the archangel’s ear before he could take off.

“Ah—ow, ow, I was just joking, let go, pleeeaaaseee,” Gabriel whined.

Dean snorted in amusement at the archangel’s predicament. One of Heaven’s greatest weapons was trying in vain to get free from the red haired angel’s unrelenting grasp even though in power terms Anna was a house cat standing against a lion. Castiel was giving his stoic equivalent of gaping in astonishment at Anna’s audacity until he noticed movement from the morgue’s entrance.

Dean followed his gaze to see a bald headed man, dressing in the Men-in-Black style—black suit and sunglasses—walk in. Baldy stiffened as he took in the situation, mainly Gabriel squirming to liberate his ear from Anna’s vicious grip. All motion halted as a quiet stare down began between Team Freewill and the man Dean would have bet money on as being a demon.

Bald demon didn’t seem to recognize Dean or the fact that he’d just entered a room with three angels. Thinking quickly so they didn’t scare off the demon, Dean gave one of his smiles that just screamed out “trust me.” “Sorry, about this, the Doc just gave my sister some bad news and she didn’t take it gracefully.” Anna made a noise and released Gabriel, but didn’t contradict the hunter. “Cas, why don’t you take your wife somewhere to calm down and the Doc and I will go over the result in his office. This gentleman is obviously here for a visit and we should leave him to it.”

Castiel gave him a blank look until he finally understood the subtle gestures Dean had been giving him while talking. “Of course, come wife, let us leave,” Castiel said, giving the most horrible display of acting Dean had the displeasure of seeing. Even when Dean and Castiel had been posing as FBI agents in their attempt to track down Raphael the clueless angel hadn’t done as bad of an acting job.

Anna’s lips twitched as she struggled not to grin at her brother’s performance. “Sure thing, hubby,” she bubbled, giving off the impression of an airhead. She clutched Castiel’s arm and dragged him out of the morgue, Dean and Gabriel following, leaving behind the bald demon whose expression said, “Human’s are crazy.”

“Think he fell for it?” Dean asked once they were a sufficient distance from the morgue.

“Probably, hench-demons don’t usually have much in the way of activity upstairs,” Gabriel said. “I think it makes them less likely to question orders.”

“I think that true for most hench types, regardless of species,” Dean added, thinking of the angelic goons that followed that miserable excuse for an angel, Zachariah.

The two quickly caught up with Anna and Castiel, the latter of whom looked extremely uncomfortable at the close press of Anna’s body against his; apparently she was still playing the part of the vapid wife. The hunter nearly smiled, the look on Castiel’s face was the same one he’d worn at the brothel Dean had taken him to in an effort to relieve the angel of his long standing status as a virgin—the endeavor had ended in a hilarious failure as Castiel had unintentionally insulted the chosen working girl.

“So now what?” Anna asked form her position as a barnacle attached to Castiel.

“This is the easy part,” Gabriel told them, cheerfully. He gave his signature finger snap, transforming his clothes back to casual. That wasn’t all he had done, before the constant stream of patients and hospital workers kept giving them glances as they passed on by, but now they avoided running into the group without really noticing them, like they were just part of the architecture. “I’ve put a perception filter round us so we can follow the demon back to Famine unawares.”

“Like in _Doctor Who_?” Anna asked, releasing her hold on Castiel to his relief.

“Precisely.”

Dean and Castiel gave the other two confused looks. Dean vaguely knew that _Doctor Who_ was a British sci-fi television show but that was about it, Sam probably would have known. Noticing that not everyone understood the reference, Anna went on to explain,” Basically a perception filter acts like a veil to prevent notice—we’re not invisible, obviously otherwise people would run into us, but to an observer we’re on the peripheral of their minds—enough to avoid us but not enough to quite register.”

“Gotcha,” Dean said, that explained why everyone in the hospital was studiously ignoring their group.

Castiel looked contemplative. “This perception filter will work on the demon?” he asked.

“Oh, sure,” Gabriel assured, “It’d take an upper level supe to see through my spell.” He gave a serious look. “So it won’t work against Famine.”

“To bad, that would have made getting his ring easier,” Dean said. He wasn’t all that disappointed; the older Winchester brother was use to doing things the hard way.

“We left Singer’s fairly quickly,” Anna noted, looking thoughtfully at Dean. “We didn’t wait for you to arm up properly.”

“Don’t worry, I’m covered,” Dean reassured her. He pulled back the flap of his leather jacket to reveal the legendary Colt tucked discreetly against his person.

“Pity it won’t kill Famine, but at least you can take out his minions easily,” said Gabriel.

“Speaking of minions, here he comes,” Anna put in.

Sure enough the bald demon they’d encountered in the morgue was walking down the hall. He was carrying a non-descript black brief case that Dean hadn’t noticed in their last encounter.

“The soul of Carl Forthill is in the black case the demon carries,” Castiel informed stoically.

Dean resisted the urge to roll his eyes at Castiel’s obvious statement and settled for following the demon as he left, leaving the three angels no choice but to follow.

Thankfully for Dean, the demon walked to his destination instead of opting to take an automobile, which would have been a pain to follow seeing as the angel’s hadn’t bothered to transport the Impala too.

It didn’t take long for the demon to reach his objective which was located a couple of blocks from the hospital. It was a stereotypical greasy spoon dinner, the like of which Dean had seen a hundred times over in his life.

The four stopped, staying out of sight of the dinner’s occupants while the demon continued inside. “So what’s the game plan?” Anna asked.

“I’ll take point,” Dean said, pulling out the Colt and double checking that it was loaded. “I’ll go through the front with Castiel; you two go around back and take the demons by surprise when they’re distracted.”

Anna looked like she wanted to protest before she remembered their conversation with Michael about Dean, Gabriel just shrugged, not caring one way or another, and Castiel was ever faithful that Dean knew what he was doing.

“Don’t be afraid to ask for help if you need it,” Anna told him, before she reluctantly started circling around the dinner. Gabriel followed her after briefly wishing them good luck.

Castiel gave him an encouraging nod, silently telling the hunter that he was with him. Steeling himself, Dean walked steadily forward. Ahead awaiting him was the Horseman Famine and the third key to Lucifer’s cage, which would put them one more step closer to stopping the Apocalypse.


	15. On the Two Fronts

The headquarters of Niveus Pharmaceuticals appeared, at face value, to be a stereotypical corporate building. The average Joe would never have guessed it was run by demons, of course when you consider the behaviors of a lot of corporate executives, demons fit right it. At least that was Sam’s thought as the glass and steel building appeared in front of his eyes, though in reality it was he who had appeared—with some angelic transportation provided by a deceptively Californian blonde, cheerleader looking Michael. The fact that their atypical arrival wasn’t even noted by the corporate drones milling about the streets that were home to clusters of high rises that included Niveus was a bit puzzling. Even those without the knowledge of the supernatural should have noticed.

“There is a field surrounding the area that lessens the awareness of anything out of the ordinary,” Michael explained, having noted the look on Sam’s face and correctly interpreted it. “I landed at the edge of the field, instead of inside the building, because I was unsure if there were any other wards—particularly those that can inhibit angels.”

Sam nodded in understanding. “Are there any?”

Michael turned her head this way and that, peering at planes beyond human sight. Finally she answered, “It appears there was an Enochian ward against angels at one time, but it is no longer in effect. Most likely it was broken because they did not wish to offend my brother when he was released.”

The hunter shifted uncomfortably at the slight reminder that for all his evil Lucifer was still an angel. “Well that’s good for us, right? We can take the fast way in,” Sam said, eager to get his hands on the demon that he had thought was his friend.

“We do not know where this Brady is in the building, if he is in fact in there. I can sense dozens of demons throughout the building,” Michael pointed out.

“Since he is the CEO, his office will be on one of the upper floors. So we will start at the top and work our way down if necessary,” Sam reasoned. He paused as a thought occurred to him about the plan. “We need a way to keep him from escaping from his human body.”

Michael waved off the problem. “I can seal a demon into a body as easily as I can exercise one out of,” she assured him. Radiant eyes gave the skyscraper another considering look. “I believe there is an empty room on the top floor I can set us down in.”

After double checking to make sure that the demon killing knife was strapped to his side, hidden beneath his bulky flannel shirt, Sam told her he was ready. Michael nodded in acquiesce, gripped his arm firmly before transporting them into the building that housed Niveus Pharmaceuticals.

They reappeared in a laboratory clustered with medical equipment. Sam quickly looked around for any personnel, but fortunately Michael had been right about the place being deserted. Besides the archangel and hunter, the only living occupant of the space was a test monkey in a plastic cage.

Upon seeing the new arrivals, the monkey went spastic—throwing itself against its cage, shrieking with an ascending pitch. Fearing the noise would be heard; Sam attempted to sooth the simian. “Nice monkey, it’s okay. Good monkey.” The monkey just kept on, frantic to reach the intruders.

Michael’s only reaction had been to frown and narrow her eyes at the psychotic little beast. Giving up on trying to calm the animal down, Sam turned to the stoic archangel and urgently said, “Do something before someone comes to investigate why the monkey’s flipped.”

There was no acknowledgement that she had heard him, but Sam knew she had because she walked forward and placed her right hand upon the monkey’s cage. A pinched, sour look appeared on her face and she gave a hiss of distaste, drawing back temporarily before replacing her hand on the glass once more. Without warning a bright red light emitted from the monkey and it burned up into ash without warning.

“Why did you do that?” Sam hissed in shock.

Eyes still bright with Grace, glanced at him. “The animal was infected by what you humans would call the Croatoan Virus,” she explained.

Horror painted his face as Sam remembered the devastation the virus had caused in one small town and what Dean had had encountered in his forced trip to the future courtesy of Zachariah. “We knew that releasing the virus was part of Lucifer’s end game, but I didn’t think he would start so soon,” Sam said, after explaining everything the Winchester’s knew about the Croatoan virus.

“Finding out how far the virus has been spread will be another piece of information to be extracted from the demon Brady,” Michael concluded.

“Hopefully not very far,” Sam said. He sent out a silent prayer that they’d stop the virus before it got out to the global population. Even though he knew God was leaving the Apocalypse issue in His children’s hands and refused to directly interfere, Sam had hope that He would still help out in subtle ways.

A quick look from Michael let him know that the archangel had heard the prayer. “I will do my best to stop it,” she promised.

The seriousness of her expression gave credit so her sincerity. If Dean had been there he would have called it a chick flick moment as Sam gave a brilliant smile.

 

The aforementioned older brother strode into the demon infested diner like he was the cowboy protagonist in an old Western walking into an outlaw infested cantina. The Clint Eastwood aura was broken when he shouted in his best Ricky Ricardo voice, “Fammy, I’m home!” Not the best entrance, but Dean was successful in drawing the diner’s occupants’ attention.

The first impression Dean had of the Horseman of the Apocalypse, Famine, was of a frail, ancient man in a wheelchair. Surrounded as he was by his Demons-in-Black goons gave even more credence to the illusion, that was until he spoke. “Dean Winchester,” Famine said, sounding surprised, “just what are you doing here?” He gave the bald-headed demon that the angel/hunter group had followed a sharp look when Dean gave a quick glance at the demon. “I see,” Famine sighed, “good minions are so hard to find.” The Horseman glared at the demon and made a gripping motion.

The bald demon started convulsing and black smoke poured out of his mouth, which Famine sucked in like he was taking a deep breath of fresh air. As soon as the smoke escaped the bald man, the body collapsed in a limp heap.

After watching Famine eat the demon-for what else could that have been-Dean felt a bit intimidated. The steady presence of Castiel watching his back gave him confidence to work through his fear long enough to give Famine a brave look.

A curious expression appeared on the Horseman’s face. “How odd,” he stated. “The angel’s connection to Heaven makes him immune to my power, but you should be overcome by hunger—I can’t even sense a stirring, you’re just a black hole of nothing.”

Famine’s remark brought to the surface Dean’s fears that he didn’t come back from Hell right. A brief glimpse of red hair brought him out of his funk. “Yeah, well at least I’m still pretty,” he said weakly, trying to keep the attention on him.

The supernatural being gave a snort in response. “Hardly worth my attention,” he scoffed. “Now your brother on the hand…tell me where is dear Sammy?”

It was obvious to Dean that Famine was hoping to cause Sam to fall back into his demon blood habit, most likely to make him vulnerable to Lucifer’s influence.

He could see Gabriel just out of the demon brigade’s sight, the archangel signaling they were ready. Stealthily, one hand crept towards where he had tucked the Colt. A deep breath later, green eyes hardening, Dean told the Horsemen, “You’re not touching my brother.” The Colt was drawn, Dean aiming for the demon’s first. Behind him, Castiel exploded into action, targeting another of the black suit contingent. Gabriel and Anna joined the fight before Team Famine knew what had hit them.

Several flashes of light later, Famine was the only enemy left standing—relatively speaking. The Horseman’s lips pursed into an angry grimace, as Dean taunted, “Am I worthy of your attention now?”

Gabriel opened his mouth, probably to join in on the taunting, but was cut off by Anna, who said, “Enough of this,” and promptly used her angel sword to cut off the fingers on Famine’s right hand. The goal was to separate the Horseman from the ring that contained his power.

As the ring-and the finger it was on-was separated from him, Famine let out a cry and vanished, leaving an empty wheelchair behind. The soft ping of the ring the final lament to that Horseman of the Apocalypse. Silence reigned as the four digested their victory.

Gazing around the diner, noting the dead patrons that had been Famine’s last human victims, the triumph seemed bittersweet to Dean. He reached for the ring and pocketed it quickly. “That’s three down,” he said, forcing himself to sound unmoved by the murderous scene. From the knowing looks he was getting from the angels, he wasn’t very successful.

“Right-e-o,” Gabriel piped up in his energetic voice, trying to break the depressive atmosphere. “Let’s head back to Singer’s, this place is totally ruining my appetite.”

Anna gave him a dirty look and the classic sibling slap upside the head. “Like you need any more sugar,” she sniffed. Gabriel glared back before giving a sly smile and snapping his fingers—Anna found herself the recipient of a caramel and chocolate sauce downpour.

The red-haired angel shrieked in outrage and instead of using her powers gave a rather human reaction of lunging for her older brother’s throat. Laughing, Gabriel danced out of her way. “That’s a good look on you, sis,” he taunted before flying away from the scene of the crime, leaving Castiel and Dean to deal with the fuming female angel.

Seeing the red-head looking like someone from one of his more intimate dreams, Dean couldn’t help but give a smirk, the depression he’d felt gone.

Seeing the appreciative look, Anna jabbed a finger at him. “Not-one-word,” she growled.

Dean’s smirk grew into a wide grin. Anna gave another growl and disappeared in a huff.

“Better take us back to Bobby’s,” Dean said to Castiel. “Before she kills Gabe—not that’d be a bad thing.”

A sigh escaped the stoic angel. “I hope Michael has returned and can end Gabriel’s…pranks.”

Dean snorted. “Yeah, you just keep praying that,” he muttered before Castiel transported them away.

 

It wasn’t hard to locate Brady’s office. It was situated behind imposing oak doors just past a Unitarian furnished waiting room. The doors were guarded by a single female office assistant behind a desk. The secretary was a very severe looking woman that appeared as if she would fit in more as a guard for a woman’s prison than behind a business office desk.

“Demon?” he asked, his voice low so as not to alert the woman.

“Witch,” was Michael’s answer, the word being said with a clear loathing as to make clear to Sam just what the archangel’s opinion was of those who sold their souls for magic.

“Terrific,” he said. If Dean had been there he would have been muttering about how much he hated witches and their obsession with bodily fluids.

“I will negate her powers,” Michael assured him as she sensed his unease.

With that the archangel stepped into the waiting room without further ado. Seeing the blonde, the secretary plastered on a fake smile that didn’t help to lessen the sharpness of her features. “May I help you?” her voice was just as harsh as her looks even though her pitch was a weak attempt at sounding friendly.

Sam stepped into view and gave her his best “trust me” look he had. “We’re here to see Brady.”

The witch raised her eyebrows at the familiar use of a first name. “Do you have an appointment?” she asked, her tone making it obvious she knew the answer.

“No, but we’re old friends from college. Just tell Brady that Sam Winchester is here to see him.”

Recognition flared on her face at his name, the witch tried to leap to her feet but Michael was suddenly before her, two fingers pressing against her forehead. The witch slumped into her chair as she fell unconscious beneath the archangel’s spell.

The witch’s danger mitigated, Sam walked to the closed doors. Every step tense as the anger he felt for the being behind them flared to the surface. Michael was close behind him, murmuring gently in his ear, “Remember we need the demon alive.”

“Then how do you want to work this?”

The blonde tilted her head in thought before answering, “Go in first and distract him, I will use the advantage of surprise to use my Grace to bind him. Then we will return to Singer’s with our prisoner.”

“Fine,” he agreed, it wasn’t like he had any better ideas. He took a deep breath to center himself. “Let’s go.”


	16. A Dish Best Served Cold

Mikey and Buffy

By Delphine Pryde

Chapter Sixteen: A Dish Served Cold

If it had been Dean walking into that office, he probably would have gone in guns blazing like the modern day cowboy he was, a smartass comment upon his lips. Sam, however, prided himself on having more common sense than his brother--usually, the relationship with Ruby and demon blood non-withstanding. So he chose a less violent approach. The younger Winchester plastered a smile on his face as he entered the CEO office of Niveus Pharmaceuticals. “Hello, Brady,” he said, in a faux friendly voice.

The demon called Brady looked surprised for a moment before his eyes narrowed in a suspicious stare that he quickly hid behind a pleased-to-see-his-old-friend type of façade. “Sam, what are you doing here?”

The hunter gave a shrug.”Oh, you know I was in the neighborhood and wanted to look up the old college friend that turns out to have been a demon that got my girlfriend killed.”

All pretense faded away as Brady made a move to attack, but found himself frozen in place. “What…” he began before trailing off as Michael appeared in front of him, her hand stretched out as she bound his movement and powers.

A smug look crossed Sam’s face as the demon paled considerably when he realized he and been captured by an angel. “You and I have a lot to talk about,” he told the demon. The tone in his voice hinted that the talk would involve salt and holy water. “But not here. We need to meet up with some other friends first.” He glanced at the angel.

Michael took the hint, grabbing the demon by the throat at the same time as she gently gripped Sam’s arm, and transported them away to where they would meet up with the others of their group: Bobby Singer’s house.

The scene they teleported into was fairly amusing to Sam. Anna appeared to be doing her best to choke Gabriel—which isn’t as effective when the choke doesn’t need to breathe. Dean was egging Anna on, while Castiel tried to pry her away from the trickster. Bobby just stood there, faint amusement hidden by a gruff exterior.

“What is going on?” Michael demanded as she observed the scene.

The arrival of the archangel immediately broke up the fight as Anna scrambled away from her captive, unwilling to tempt Michael’s goodwill. Gabriel just gave his big sister a grin, “Just playing around.”

Michael just raised an eyebrow at the excuse. “ _He has been a Trickster for the last couple of thousand years_ ”, Buffy remarked. “ _I bet he pulled a prank on Anael._ ”

Heaven’s General gave a mental sigh and a fleeting thought about obnoxious brothers. “Well, play time is over,” Sam interjected, gesturing to the captive demon. Everyone fell into a sobering silent as they studied Brady.

Michael dragged the demon to the middle of the den where a Devil’s trap had been painted both on the ceiling and the floor. Her bindings made the creature powerless, but there was no sense in not taking an extra precaution. “ _No such thing as overkill_ ,” Buffy approved.

As the archangel let go of her grip on the demon, she also released the spell keeping him frozen. Brady stretched out, casually, like being frozen by an archangel wasn’t a big deal. He gazed disdainfully at the room’s occupants. “What is this, the hunter’s version of the Brady Bunch?” he mocked.

An evil grin appeared on Gabriel’s face, one that sent an urge to run and hide through Anna and Dean. “Hardly, I’d consider us more like the Avenger,” he commented, walking closer to the Devil’s trap. “Well, they’re the Avengers,” he corrected, glancing at the rest of the group. “Me, I’m Loki, and I meat that in the most literal sense.”

Brady snorted. “Like a pagan god would work with those who hunt their kind.”

Gabriel shrugged. “We have to live here too, so the Apocalypse is not in our best interest.” He gave another evil grin. “So why don’t you tell me the location of Pestilence and I won’t have to go Viking on your ass.”

The demon let out a mocking laugh. “There is nothing you can do to me that would make me betray my lord. Traitors aren’t permitted oblivion, just never ending pain.”

“Lucifer is not the only one who can bring never ending pain,” Anna told him, understanding Gabriel’s strategy, backing him up even after his prank. Everyone else wisely stayed silent, fixing their best serious stares on the demon. “Loki is very familiar with pain,” she continued.   
“I seem to recall a story of being chained to a rock for eternity while a serpent dripped acidic venom upon him.”

Gabriel grimaced, hinting that the story was at least partially true. “Yeah, if a being of power hadn’t taken pity upon me I’d still be there.”

Michael figured out what he wasn’t saying. “ **So that is how he hid so well from Heaven** ,” she commented.

Buffy sent a mental request for clarification. “ **Gabriel’s vessel is the actual Loki** ,” Michael explained. “ **He must have offered the pagan an end to his torture in exchange for him being his vessel.** ”

“ _So his Grace was obscured by Loki’s power and no one else knew the one in charge was actually an archangel_ ,” Buffy concluded, “ _Smart_.”

“ **My Father would have** ,” Michael said, her mental voice dinged with longing for her Creator. “ **I do not know why HE concealed where Gabriel was**.”

Buffy didn’t even bother to say the cliché “God works in mysterious ways.”

“The serpent and rock torture is one option,” Gabriel mused. “Though, I was thinking of just handing him over to my daughter, you know the one who rules over a kingdom of dead—Hel.”

Brady paled considerably. “ _I guess Hel has a reputation_ ,” Buffy thought.

“ **Keeping the demon from being destroyed as he is put through unmentionable torture is well within Hel’s power**.”

The denizen of Hell licked his lips nervously. “So my options are torture for eternity of tell you where Pestilence is and have you kill me after? Yeah, no, how about you let me go in exchange for the where about of the Horseman?”

“No!” Sam growled out before any consideration on the offer could be made. He had been silent since arriving at Bobby’s, content to glare in hatred at the demon and wait for his chance to avenge his girlfriend—a chance he wasn’t going to let pass no matter what information was given for Brady’s freedom.

Said demon smirked. “Sammy, so upset over pretty Jessie’s death. You know it wasn’t Azazel that killed her, I’m the one that burned the bitch on the ceiling,” he confessed in a delighted voice.

Sam lunged for the demon, Ruby’s knife in his hands. Castiel was quick to intercept and hold him, before the youngest Winchester could kill their only lead to Pestilence. “Let me go, Cas,” he said, straining to break the angel’s grasp.

“Not until you start thinking rationally,” the stoic angel replied.

“I am,” he lied.

Dean snorted. “Not even Cas will believe that.”

A hurt look briefly appeared on the angel in question’s face at the jab about his naivety. Bobby gave a loud suffering sigh. “Idjits,” he grumbled and hauled out a shot gun which he pointed at Brady. “How about this, you talk and don’t see how much consecrated iron your body can take before one of the angel’s needs to heal you so we can start over again.”

Brady gazed at the old hunter’s eyes and knew he was deadly serious. His shoulders slumped as he realized he wouldn’t be able to talk his way out of the situation. He pulled out a piece of paper from his coat and a pen before beginning to write. “You’ll find Pestilence at a retirement home posing as a doctor, here’s the address.”

He handed off the paper to Gabriel. “What of the Croatoan virus?” Michael asked.

“Still in its trial phase, all the samples are at the labs in the building you captured me from.”

Michael nodded at Castiel, who then released Sam. The freed hunter stalked towards the trapped demon, holding the late Ruby’s knife in a firm grip.

Anna shifted uncomfortably, her eyes darting around the room. “Um, I’ll just go take care of the virus now,” she said, before fleeing. She clearly didn’t want to see Sam take his vengeance upon the demon.

“I’ll go help her,” Gabriel put in, handing off the piece of paper containing Pestilence’s location to Castiel after memorizing the words. The younger angel stowed the paper in his trench coat for safe keeping as Gabriel took off.

Buffy, Michael, Dean, Bobby, and Castiel were left to bear witness as Sam finally avenged the woman he loved. The victory was bittersweet.


	17. Lucy, I'm Home.

Mikey and Buffy

Chapter Seventeen: Lucy, I’m Home

By Delphine Pryde

When Gabriel and Anna returned, sometime after the body of Brady had properly been disposed of, it was with Pestilence’s ring in hand. “I’m getting sick of this story, I’m ready to move on,” Gabriel said, tossing Dean the last horseman’s ring. “Preferably somewhere with hot babes and clothing optional rules.”

Anna rolled her eyes at her brother’s lecherous grin. When Dean broke out of his stunned state over the fact that Gabriel actually took the initiative in the whole stop the apocalypse plan, he muttered, “TMI.”

The angelic messenger opened his mouth to say something teasing to the eldest Winchester, but was stopped by a glare directed his way from Michael.

“So now that we’ve got the key to the prison, how are we going to get Lucifer in it?” Bobby asked, bringing everyone’s attention to the task at hand. “Just ask nicely?”

Silence reigned for a moment before Sam, hesitantly spoke up, “What if I said ‘yes’ and then jumped in, taking Lucifer with me?”

“No way!”

“Are you crazy?”

“That’s insane!” were some of the reactions his suggestion invoked.

“You are proposing to engage in mental struggle with my brother in hopes of winning and sentencing you both to Hell?” Michael said, eerily calm. “The odds are very slim.”

“Bobby was able to win,” Sam defended.

“At the cost of my legs,” the old hunter pointed out, “and that was some puissant weak demon. You’re talking about taking on the Devil himself.”

“The amount of demon blood you have to consume to keep Lucifer’s Grace from destroying your body would have the negative side effect of making you vulnerable to his influence.”

Sam shifted uncomfortably at the mention of demon blood. “Why would I need to? You all don’t burn out your vessels.”

“It’s Hell’s taint,” Castiel explained to him. “The millennium spent there would have twisted his Grace too much to not do some damage to his vessels, even his most perfect one.”

“That plan is out then, no way is Sam getting within a hundred feet of demon blood,” Dean said firmly.

“Which brings us back to square one,” muttered Bobby.

“I suppose those of us of angelic stock could always try to gang up on him and force him into the portal,” Anna suggested.

The looks on their faces made it pretty clear that neither Castiel nor Gabriel wanted to get anywhere near the fallen archangel.

A discussion of possible plans continued to be tossed back and forth, some of them out right ridiculous, such as the Wiley Coyote-esqe trap that Gabriel wanted to create. The only one not participating was Michael.

The archangel had mentally retreated into one of his last peaceful memories before Lucifer had fallen. Mankind had just been created and the four archangels had gone to Eden to admire their Father’s work, invisible so as to not frighten its inhabitants.

“What oddly delightful creatures,” Gabriel remarked as they observed a nude man and woman resting under the shade of a tree. “I wonder what they look like startled?”

He tried to shuffle closer only to have Raphael grip his wing. “You are no playing tricks on these innocent creatures,” he said.

Gabriel gave him an affronted look and sniffed. “Of course not, they can’t fight back, no challenge.” A sly smile appeared on his face. “Unlike you.” Without further ado a rain of stinky sap fell upon the other archangel.

Raphael let out an undignified squawk and lunged after his younger sibling. Gabriel gleefully dashed out of his grasp, prompting a chase across Eden.

“Fledglings,” Lucifer said a found look of love for his younger brothers on his face.

Michael had walked closer to Adam and his wife, Lilith, so that he was near enough to reach out and touch the couple. “Fascinating,” he whispered.

Lucifer’s fond expression dropped, replace by one of distaste. “Hardly, they’re just another animal, marginally clever, but still primitive.”

“Is that jealousy I hear?” Michael teased.

“What is there to be jealous of?” Lucifer shot back. “Father will eventually get bored with this experiment and return his attention to better things.”

Michael gave a small smile and embraced the other angel. “Perhaps you are correct and this is just a momentary distraction.” He pulled away, taking Lucifer’s hands. “Come, let us return home.”

Only mankind hadn’t been a temporary distraction, they had actually superseded their Father’s love. It wasn’t long after all the angels were ordered to serve mankind that Lucifer rebelled. His first act was to twist Lilith’s innocence, creating the first demon. War in Heaven raged. In Eden, God created Eve as another companion to Adam, only to have her tricked into eating from the forbidden fruit, resulting in mankind’s exile form Eden. Eventually, Lucifer and his rabble were cast into Hell, but the damage was done.

Michael blamed himself for not preventing Lucifer’s fall. “ _It wasn’t your fault_ ,” Buffy protested, “ _You couldn’t have predicted what would happen_.” She failed to mention the One who could have, did not act. She preferred to avoid getting into a debate between fate and free will.

“ **I’m sure there was something I could have done** ,” Michael insisted. “ **Just as there is something I can do now**.”

She didn’t know why, but that last statement gave her a sinking feeling. “ _What are you up to_?” she asked.

“I have a plan, though not one you will like,” the archangel admitted out loud.

The discussions came to a halt form everyone else. “We’re listening,” Sam stated, prompting the archangel to share.

Michael outlined a plan that was so very much a Winchester plan that Bobby had to comment “Sounds like something these idjits would come up with.”

Dean gave a faux hurt look. “I’ll have you know our plans are brilliant,” he said with an offended sniff.

“Brilliantly dumb,” Gabriel muttered.

The hunter responded with a rude gesture, before allowing his game face to take over as he addressed Michael. “I don’t like the idea of Sam taking such a risk.”

“I’ll be fine,” said brother insisted. “I have a good feeling about this plan, it will work.”

“I for one, am all for it, as it keeps me out of Lucifer’s line of fire,” Gabriel added.

Anna rolled her eyes at his comment. “You would,” she sighed. “Sadly, I don’t think there are any better options.”

“Worst plans have succeeded,” Bobby reluctantly admitted.

“There is some merit to this plan,” Castiel spoke up.

“Guess I’m outvoted,” said Dean, glancing around the room. “So where is this shindig to take place?”

“Lucifer has had the same base of operations singe he raise Death in Carthage,” Michael informed him.

Sad expressions of remembrance passed over the rooms human occupants. They’d lost some good friends in that town. “Where’s that?” Bobby asked, the first to recover from the melancholy.

Michael opened her mouth to answer, but was cut off by Dean. “Detroit,” he said. There was a haunted look in his eyes.

She acknowledged his correct answer with a not. “That future won’t happen,” Sam quickly said, knowing his brother was thinking about the trip to a future he’d had where Sam had said “yes” to Lucifer.

Dean took a deep breath, letting the air out slowly to calm himself. “I know. That Sammy was alone,” he said, remember how his jackass of an alternate self had never made up after a fight with his brother over taking a break from hunting.

“Team Free Will forever!” Gabriel cheered, snapping his fingers. Team t-shirts in black with whit letters blazing “Team Free Will” garbed everybody’s torso. The living room of Bobby Singer was suddenly filled with balloons, streamers, and a food buffet.

Michael felt a small smile appear on her face. “A last supper,” she said wistfully.

“The first of many,” Castiel corrected, his blue eyes shining with hope.

“May it be so,” she whispered.

The Impala pulled to halt in front of one among dozens of similar abandoned buildings in Detroit. “So this is Hell’s big HQ?” Dean questioned as he got out of the driver’s side. Sam quickly followed from the passenger’s side, his gaze studying the building.

From the back of the Impala, Buffy got out of the car. “Michael says it is,” she confirmed.

“Fantastic,” Dean muttered. “Well, let’s go boot the Devil to the curb.” The three moved towards the building’s entrance.

Sam didn’t respond, just tensed up as the trio soon found themselves surrounded by demons. Buffy had to keep herself from attacking when her arms were seized in a tight grip and she was dragged inside along with Sam and Dean.

The room they were brought to had a blond haired man staring out the window. “You know, humans believe Hell is hot, when actually it’s quite cool.” He breathed on the window, making it ice over. With his right pointer finder he traced a trident in the frost. Finally he turned to look over his guests. Buffy could see the skin on his face distorted in welts and burns, the power of Lucifer’s grace destroying the body he wore. “Sam, Dean, how nice to see you again,” he said, jovially. He paused as he saw Buffy; she could feel his power sensing her. Hoping Michael really could remain hidden from his brother by using Buffy as a shield, she briefly flared her inherited grace causing Hell’s ruler to step back in surprise. “So that’s what happened to Onoskelis’ grace,” he said. He trailed a finger across her face, causing her to flinch. “What a curious creature you are, not quite a nephilim, but nowhere near human.” He glanced at the Winchester brothers briefly. “Shame, you’re not on my side.” Buffy blankly stared at him until he stepped back, hiding her anxiety. “So what can I do for you?” he asked, rhetorically before continuing,” Ah yes, you’re here to have Sam say yes to me so he jump into the cage through a portal created by the Horseman’s rings.” He gave a mocking smile at the looks of surprise on their faces. “I hear things.”

“You hear things,” Dean growled.

“You didn’t really think you collecting my Horseman’s rings went unnoticed, did you?” He shrugged, “Sorry to spoil your surprise.”

Buffy could practically see Dean getting second thoughts with the revelation that Lucifer was aware of the Four Horsemen’s rings they’d collected. “Your awareness of our plan doesn’t change anything,” she told the Devil coolly.

Sam nodded in agreement. Lucifer just gave another smile. “As you wish, a winner takes all match of wills with a simple word.” He stared intently at Sam, waiting for the hunter’s response.

Complete silence and stillness as if the whole world held its collective breath for what would happen next. Sam took a deep breath before uttering those fateful words, “Yes.”

A satisfied smirk crossed Lucifer’s face. Then a bright light flared, as Lucifer left his current vessel, forcing everyone to shut their eyes. At that same moment, Michael uncurled from his hiding place within the Slayer and flung himself out of Buffy’s body. He gave her a brief well as he left. A loud shrieking of an angel’s true voice pierced her ears and she knew Michael had succeeded in grappling Lucifer away from Sam. Buffy reached into her right pocket pulling out the four rings of the Horsemen. She flung the rings towards a side of the room that she knew was empty. She quickly uttered the special phrase of Enochian she was taught that would open the door to Lucifer’s cage. A roar of howling wind let her know she had succeeded. The angelic voice became louder, more panicked, the pitch so high that Buffy was forced to cover her ears. According to the plan, Michael would be wrestling Lucifer into portal, hopefully without falling in himself.

The struggle seemed to take forever. Flaring light caused colors to dance across her closed eyes. More human-like cries of pain sounded, as the grunt demons got caught up in the angelic scuffle and promptly found themselves smote.

When the light, at last, ended and silence echoed in the room did Buffy open her eyes. She saw both Sam and Dean looking around, noting the burned out husks of the people the demon minions had possessed. A pang of sadness hit her heart; Michael had entered the cage with Lucifer. If she was truthful with herself she knew he had planned to sacrifice himself the entire time. No doubt, as penance for failing to prevent Lucifer’s fall. A tear crept down her chook, which she furiously wiped away to no avail as more soon followed.

“They both went into the cage, didn’t they?” Sam questioned softly.

Buffy just let out a sob. Shuffling his feat uncomfortably for a few minutes, Sam finally walked over and pulled the Slayer into a hug. She quickly clung to him, seeking comfort in his sympathetic arms. “For an archangel, I suppose Mikey wasn’t so bad,” the older Winchester brother admitted at their side.

“He’s a great person,” she corrected.

“Couldn’t have said that better myself,” spoke the jovial voice of Gabriel.

The three other angels of Team Free Will stood behind them. “So Mikey’s got himself in the slammer,” Gabriel stated. “Sounds like a rescue is in order.” He glanced at his siblings for their opinions.

Anna shrugged. “Guess I owe him for not smiting me.”

“It would be imperative that I went as I am the only one to have recently been to Hell on a rescue mission,” Castiel stated.

Hope bloomed in Buffy. She pulled away from Sam and gave a smile. “What are we waiting for? Team Free Will rides again!”

Story End

For those curious about what happens next, here’s a summary, because I don’t plan on writing it:

Team Free Will rescues Michael from the cage with the help of Death (who gets his ring back.) The angels go back to Heaven to fix its issues and punish those who were in charge of starting the apocalypse. The punishment is banishment on Earth without any powers but relative immortality until each angel under punishment has a better appreciation for humanity—Raphael and Zachariah are among those punished. God is still AWOL.

Gabriel, with some of the Watcher council’s witches, constructs a vessel for Michael to use so he can visit Earth without inconveniencing Buffy. Anna is another frequent visitor to Earth and is semi-dating Dean.

The Winchester brothers go back on the road, hunting monsters as usual. Buffy tags along, eventually getting together with Sam. Bobby continues to be a grumpy old man.

 

Onoskelis is a female demon, in my story she is a fallen angel.


End file.
